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CONTAINING ..^^'J^j^^ 
PROMTHE BOOK OF MYTHS, 
i^ROM THE GREEN BOOK OFi 
THE BARDS, SO^NpSOFTHE 
|EAGHILDREi!%ONGSj^ 
liROM A NORTHERN GARDEN, 
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PREFACE 



that's no such easy matter in a difficult world, I can 
tell you. 'Tis wine that gives a man courage and 
romance, and puts heart in him for deeds and ad- 
ventures and all manner of plain wholesome love. 
And that, after all, is the mainspring with most men, 
hide it how they may. For what ever was done, 
that was worth doing, and was not done for a woman 
or for the sake of a friend, I should like to know ? " 

** Maybe I hadn't thought of that," says the 
stranger. ** You must have tasted some rare wine in 
your time." 

** Not so much," says the other, **but I was born 
with a shrewd taste for it, you may say. Moreover 
1 came of a people who were far farers in their day, 
and have been abroad myself more than once. So it 
comes you find the foreign vintages in my bins. 
There's some Greek wine I have, sir, that's more 
than a century old, I'll wager ; and a rare Moon- 
wine, as they call it, picked up in an out-of-the-way 
port, that will make you forget your sorrow like a 
strain of music ; light wines from France, too ; and some 
Heather Brose, very old and magical, such as the 
little dark people used to make hereabout in the times 



IX 



PREFACE 

of the Celts long ago, — and very good times they 
were too. It is not these days that have all the 
wisdom ever was, you may be sure.'* 

**You are not such a bad advocate, after all," re- 
marks the stranger. "You speak very invitingly.'* 

** Step inside," says the landlord. 

Bliss Carman. 

October lo, ig02. 



CONTENTS 

Page 

Preface , . vii 

Overlord i 

The Pipes of Pan 4 

Marsyas 32 

Syrinx 41 

The Magic Flute » , 54 

A Shepherd in Lesbos „ , 69 

Daphne , 74 

The Lost Dryad 79 

The Dead Faun . . . , 83 

Hylas 91 

At Ph^dra's Tomb 94 

A Young Pan's Prayer 100 

The Tidings to Olaf iio 

The Prayer in the Rose Garden . . . 123 



OVERLORD. 



TTvivfJba KVptOV CTT €/X€. 



Lord of the grass and hill, 
Lord of the rain, 
White Overlord of will. 
Master of pain, 

I who am dust and air 
Blown through the halls of death. 
Like a pale ghost of prayer, — 
I am thy breath. 

Lord of the blade and leat, 
Lord of the bloom, 
Sheer Overlord of grief. 
Master of doom. 



OVERLORD 



Lonely as wind or snow, 
Through the vague world and dim, 
Vagrant and glad I go ; 
I am thy whim. 

Lord of the storm and lull, 
Lord of the sea, 
I am thy broken gull, 
Blown far alee. 

Lord of the harvest dew. 
Lord of the dawn. 
Star of the paling blue 
Darkling and gone, 

Lost on the mountain height 
Where the first winds are stirred. 
Out of the wells of night 
I am thy word. 



OVERLORD 



Lord of the haunted hush, 
Where raptures throng, 
I am thy hermit thrush. 
Ending no song. 

Lord of the frost and cold. 
Lord of the North, 
When the red sun grows old 
And day goes forth, 

I shall put off this girth^- — ■ 
Go glad and free. 
Earth to my mother earth, 
Spirit to thee. 



THE PIPES OF PAN. 

This is something that I heard^ — 
Half a cry and half a word^ — 
On a magic day in fune^ 
In the ghostly azure noon^ 
Where the wind among the trees 
Made mysterious melodies^ 
Such as those which filled the earth 
When the elder gods had birth. 

Ah, the world is growing old ! 
Of the joys it used to hold, 
Love and beauty, naught have 1 
But the fragrant memory. 

Once, ah, once, (ye know the story !) 
When the earth was in her glory. 



THE PIPES OF PAN 



Ere man gave his heart to breed 

Iron hate and heartless greed, 

Near a meadow by a stream 

Quiet as an ageless dream, 

As I watched from the green rim 

Of a beech grove cool and dim, 

Musing in the pleasant shade 

The soft leafy sunlight made. 

What should gleam and move and quiver 

Down by the clear, pebbly river. 

Where the tallest reeds were growing 

And the bluest iris blowing, — 

Gleam a moment and then pass, 

(Ah, the dare-to-love she was. 

In her summer-fervid dress 

Of sheer love and loveliness !) 

Wayward, melting, shy, and fond, 

Lissome as a bulrush wand. 

Fresh as meadowsweet new-blown. 

Sandal lost, and loosened zone, 



THE PIPES OF PAN 



Our own white Arcadian 
Touched with rose and creamy tan, 
Eyes the colour that might fleck 
The red meadow lily's neck. 
Hair with the soft silky curl 
Of some strayed patrician girl, 
Beech-brown on the sunlit throat, 
Cheek of tawny apricot. 
Parted lips and breast aglow, — 
Who but Syrinx, as ye know ! 

Gone, swift as a darting swallow, 
What could young Pan do but follow ? 
(Have ye felt the warm blood leap. 
When the soul awakes from sleep. 
At a glance from some dark eye 
Of a sudden passing by ? — 
Known the pulse's hurried throb 
And the breathing's catch and sob. 
When, upon his race with Death, 

6 



THE PIPES OF PAN 



Life the runner halts for breath, 
Taking with a happy cry 
His brief draught of ecstasy ?) 
Call I did, with only laughter 
Blown back, as I hurried after; 
Till I reached the riverside, 
Where I last had seen her glide 
In among the reeds, and there 
Lost her. But a breath of air 
Moved the grass-heads, going by. 
And I heard the rushes sigh. 

So the chase has always proved ; 
And Pan never yet has loved. 
But the loved one all too soon 
Merged in music and was gone, — 
Melted like a passing strain. 
Vanished like a gust of rain 
Or a footfall of the wind, 
Leaving not a trace behind. 

7 



THE PIPES OF PAN 



All that once was Pitys stirs 
In the soft voice of the firs. 
Lovers, when ye hear that sigh, 
Not without a prayer pass by ! 
And, O lovers, when ye hear, 
On a morning soft and clear, 
All that once was Echo still 
Wandering from hill to hill. 
Breathe a prayer lest ye too stray. 
Lost upon the mountain way. 
And go seeking all your lives 
Love, when but his ghost survives ! 

Then a swaying river reed 

From the water, for my need. 

In a dream I blindly drew. 

Cut and fashioned, ranged and blew,- 

Such a music as was played 

Never yet since earth was made. 

Shrilling, wild and dazed and thin, 

8 



THE PIPES OF PAN 



All my welling heart therein 
Trembled, till the piping grew 
Pure as fire and fine as dew, 
Till confusion was untangled 
From the crowding notes that jangled, 
And a new-created world 
To my wonder was unfurled, 
Sphere by sphere, as climbing sense 
Faltered at the imminence 
Of the fragile thing called soul 
Just beyond oblivion's goal, 
And creation's open door 
Bade me enter and explore. 

Slowly hill and stream and wood 
Merged and melted, for my mood, 
With the colour of the sun 
In the pipe I played upon. 



THE PIPES OF PAN 

Slowly anger from me fell, 
In the coil of that new spell 
My own music laid on me, — 
Like the great rote of the sea. 
Like the whisper of the stream. 
Like a wood bird's sudden gleam. 
Or the gusts that swoop and pass 
Through the ripe and seeding grass,- 
Perfect rhythm and colour cast 
In the perfect mould at last. 

Slowly I came back to poise, — 
A new self with other joys. 
Other raptures than before. 
Harming less and helping more. 
I could strive no more for gain ; 
Being was my true domain. 
And the smiling peace that ever 
In the end outruns endeavour. 
It was not enough to do ; 

lO 



THE PIPES OF PAN 



I must feel, but reason too, — 
Find the perfect form and fashion 
For the elemental passion ; 
Else must blemish still be hurled 
On the beauty of the world, — 
Gloom and clang and hate alloy 
Colour, melody, and joy. 
And the violence of error 
Fill the earth with sound and terror. 

So I felt the subtle change, 
Large, enduring, keen, and strange ; 
And on that day long ago 
I became the god ye know, 
Made by music out of man. 
Now ye have the pipes of Pan, 
Which ye call by Syrinx' name. 
Keeping bright a little fame 
Few folk ever think upon. 
Ah, but where is Syrinx gone ? 

II 



THE PIPES OF PAN 



As the mountain twilight stole 
Through the woods from bole to bole, 
A dumb warder setting free 
Every shy divinity^ 
I became aware of each 
Presence^ aspen, bass^ and beech ; 
And they all found voice and made 
A green music in the shade. 

Therefore, therefore, mortal man, 
When ye hear the pipes of Pan, 
Marvel not that they should hold 
Something sad and calm and old, 
Like an eerie minor strain 
Running through the strong refrain. 
All there is of human woe 
Pan has fathomed long ago ; 
All of sorrow, all of ill, 
Kindly Pan remembers still ; 
Disappointment, grief, disdain, 

12 



THE PIPES OF PAN 



Stifled impulse and bleak pain, — 

Pan has learned them ; Pan has known 

Hurts and passions of his own. 

Thus Pan knows the secret hid 
Under the Great Pyramid ; 
Why young lovers for their love 
Think the stars are light enough, 
And they very well may house 
In the odorous fir boughs, — 
Think there is no light of day 
With the loved one gone away, 
Use in life, nor pleasure more 
By the hearth or out of door, — - 
Since all things begin and end 
But to glad the little friend. 
And all gladness is forgot 
Where the little friend is not. 



THE PIPES OF PAN 



Thus Pan melts your human heart 
With the magic of his art. 
Yet, O heart-distracted man, 
When you hear the pipes of Pan, 
Marvel not that they should hold 
Something sure and strong and bold, 
Like a dominant refrain 
Heartening the minor strain. 

Come into the woods once more ; 

Leave the fire and close the door; 

Trust the spirit that has made 

Musical the light and shade, 

Still to guard you, still to guide you, 

Somewhere in the wood beside you. 

Pace for pace upon the road 

To your larger next abode. 

Though the world should lay a finger 

On your arm to bid you linger, 

Ye shall neither halt nor tarry 

14 



THE PIPES OF PAN 

(Little be the load ye carry !) 
When ye hear the pipes of Pan 
Shrill and pleading in the van. 
'Tis the music that has freed you 
From the old life, and shall lead you, 
Gently wise and strongly fond, 
To the greater life beyond. 
Yet I whisper to you, " Stay ; 
That new life is here j to-day 
Is your home, whose roof shall rise 
From the ground before your eyes." 

For Pan loves you and is near. 
Though no music you should hear. 
Hearken, hearken ; it will grow, 
Spite of bitterness and woe, 
Clear and sweet and undistraught, 
(This old earth's impassioned thought,) 
And the sorry heart shall learn 
What no rapture could discern. 

15 



THE PIPES OF PAN 

All the music ye have heard : 
Mountain brook and orchard bird ; 
Fifers in the April swamp, 
Fiddlers leading August's pomp ; 
All the mellow flutes of June 
Melting on the mating tune; 
Pale tree cricket with his bell 
Ringing ceaselessly and well. 
Sounding silver to the brass 
Of his cousin in the grass ; 
Hot cicada clacking by. 
When the air is dusty dry ; 
Old man owl, with noiseless flight, 
Whoo-hoo-hooing in the night; 
Surf of ocean, sough of pine ; 
Note of warbler, sharp and fine ; 
Rising wind and falling rain, 
Lowing cattle on the plain; 
And that hardly noticed sound 
When the apples come to ground, 

i6 



THE PIPES OF PAN 

On the long, still afternoons, 
In the shelter of the dunes ; 
Chir and guggle, bark and cry. 
Bleat, hum, twitter, coo and sigh, 
Mew and belling, hoot and bay. 
Clack and chirrup, croak and neigh, 
Whoof and cackle, whine and creak. 
Honk and chatter, caw and squeak ; 
Wolf and eagle, mink and moose. 
Each for his own joyous use 
Uttering the heart's desire 
As the season bade aspire ; 
Folk of meadow, crag, and dale. 
Open barren and deep swale, — 
Every diverse rhythm and time 
Brought to order, ranged in rhyme : 
All these bubbhng notes once ran 
Thrilling through the pipes of Pan. 



17 



THE PIPES OF PAN 

Think you Pan forgets the tune 
Learned beneath the slim new moon, 
When these throbbings all were blent 
To the dominant intent ? 

All the beauties ye have seen : 
Autumn scarlet, young spring green ; 
Floating mists that drift and follow 
Up the dark blue mountain hollow j 
Yellow sunlight, silver spray ; 
The wild creatures at their play ; 
Through still hours the floating seed 
Of the thistle and milkweed. 
And the purple asters snowed 
In a drift beside the road ; 
Swarthy fern by pebbly shoal ; 
Mossed and mottled beech-tree bole ; 
Fireflies in a dewy net, 
When the summer eves are wet ; 
All the bright, gay-coloured things 



THE PIPES OF PAN 



Buoyed in air on balanced wings ; 
All earth's wonder j then the sea 
In his lone immensity 
Only the great stars can share, 
And the life uncounted there, 
Where the coral gardens lie 
And the painted droves go by. 
In the water-light and gloom. 
Silent till the day of doom : 
These have lent, as beauty can, 
Colour to the pipes of Pan. 

Think you Pan forgets the key 
Of their primal melody, — 
Phrase and motive to revive 
Every drooping soul alive ? 

All the wilding rapture shared 
With the loved one, when ye dared 
(Lip to lip and knee to knee) 

19 



THE PIPES OF PAN 



Force the door of destiny, — 

Greatly loved and greatly gave, 

Too divine to stint or save; 

All the passion ye have poured 

For the joy of the adored, 

Spending without thought or measure 

Young delight and priceless treasure. 

Grown immortal in the hour 

When fresh manhood came in flower ; 

All the ecstasy unpent 

From sweet ardours finding vent 

In the coming on of spring, 

When the rainy uplands ring. 

And the misty woods unfold 

To the magic as of old ; 

All the hot, delicious swoon 

Of the teeming summer noon. 

When the year is brought to prime 

By the bees among the thyme. 

And each mortal heart made over 

20 



THE PIPES OF PAN 



By the wind among the clover : 
All these glad things ye shall find 
With a free and single mind, 
Dreaming eye and cheek of tan, 
Lurking in the pipes of Pan. 

So the forest wind went by^ — 
Half a word and half a sigh^ — 
On a magic night in fune,, 
When the wondrous silent moon 
Flooded the blue mountain clove^ 
And the stream in my beech grove 
Uttered secrets strange and deep^ 
Like one talking in his sleep. 

Would ye enter, maid and man, 
The novitiate of Pan ? 
Know the secret of the strain 
Lures you through the summer plain, 
Guess the meaning of the thrill 

21 



THE PIPES OF PAN 



Haunts you on the autumn hill ? 
Would ye too contrive a measure 
Out of love, to fill your leisure ? 
Learn to fashion a flute-reed 
That should answer to love's need, 
When the spirit in you cries 
To be given form and guise 
Others may perceive and love, 
Fair and much accounted of, — 
Craves to be the tenant heart 
In some wild, new, lovely art. 
Such as haunts the glades of spring 
When the woodlands bloom and ring ? 

While the silver night still broods 
On the mountain solitudes. 
And the great white planet still 
Is undimmed upon the hill, — 
Ere a hint of subtile change 
Steals across the purple range 

32 



THE PIPES OF PAN 



To arouse the sleeping bird, — 
Hear the wise old master's word, 
When he leads the pregnant notes 
From the reedy golden throats, 
And the traveller, in their spell. 
Halts, and wonders what they tell ! 

Here is Pan's green flower, the earth, 
He has tended without dearth. 
Brought to blossom, fruit, and seed 
By the sap's imperious need. 
When the season of the sun 
Sets its fervour free to run. 
Sap of tree and pith of man, 
Ah, but they are dear to Pan ! 
Not a creature stirs or moves. 
But Pan heartens and approves ; 
Not a being loves or dies, 
But Pan knows the sacrifice. 
Man or stripling, wife or maid, 

23 



THE PIPES OF PAN 



Pan is ever by to aid ; 

And no harm can come to you, 

But his great heart feels it, too. 

Love's use let the joiner prove 

By the fit of tongue and groove; 

Or the smith, whose forge's play 

Stubborn metal must obey ; 

Let the temple-builders own. 

As they mortise stone to stone ; 

Or the sailor, when he reeves 

Sheet and halliard through the sheaves ; 

Or the potter, from whose wheel 

Fair and finished shapes upsteal, 

As by magic of command. 

Guided by the loving hand. 

Ye behold in love the tether 
Binding the great world together; 
For without that coil of wonder 

24 



THE PIPES OF PAN 

The round world would fall asunder, 
And your hearts be filled with sadness 
At a great god's seeming madness, 
Where they now have peace, and hope. 
Somewhere, somehow, time will ope. 
And the loneliness be sated. 
And the longing be abated 
In the loved one, lovely past 
All imagining at last. 
Melting, fragrant, starry-eyed. 
Like a garden in its pride. 
Odorous with hint and rapture 
Of soft joys no word can capture. 

Ah, the sweet Pandean strain ! 
He who hears it once shall gain 
Freedom of the open door. 
Willing to go back no more. 



25 



THE PIPES OF PAN 



When ye hear the sea pipes thunder, 
Bow the loving heart in wonder; 
When ye hear the wood pipes play, 
Lift the door latch and away ; 
When ye hear the hill pipes calling. 
Where the pure cold brooks are falling. 
Follow till your feet have found 
The desired forgotten ground. 
And ye know, past all unlearning, 
By the raptured quench of yearning. 
What the breath is to the reed 
Whence the magic notes are freed, — 
What new life the gods discover 
To the loved one and the lover. 
When their fabled dreams come true 
In the wondrous fair and new. 

For the music of the earth, 

Helping joy-of-heart to birth, 

(Field note, wood note, wild or mellow, 

26 



THE PIPES OF PAN 

Bidding all things fare and fellow,) 

Means that wisdom lurks behind 

The enchantment of the mind ; 

And your longing keen and tense 

Still must trust the lead of sense, — 

Hint of colour, form, and sound, — 

Till it reach the perfect round, 

And completed blend its strain 

With the haunted pipes again. 

Ye must learn the lift and thrill 

That elate the wood pipes still ; 

Feel the ecstasy and shiver 

Of the reed notes in the river; 

Shudder to the minor trace 

In the sea's eternal bass, 

And give back the whole heart's treasure 

To supreme the music's measure, 

Glad that love should sink and sound 

All the beauty in earth's bound. 



27 



THE PIPES OF PAN 

All this loveliness which ran 
Searching through the pipes of Pan,- 
AU this love must merge and blend 
With Pan's piping in the end. 
All the knowledge ye draw near 
At the ripening of the year, 
Living one day at a time. 
Innocent of fear or crime, 
(When the mountain slopes put on 
Their brave scarlet in the sun, 
When the sea assumes a blue 
Such as April never knew, 
And the marshes, fields, and skies 
Sing with colour as day dies,) 
Peaceful, undistracted, free. 
In your earth-born piety ; 
All the love when friend for friend 
Dared misfortune to the end, — 
Fronted failure, flouted harm. 
For the sake of folding arm, — 

28 



THE PIPES OF PAN 



Bravelier trod the earth, and bolder, 
For the touch of hand on shoulder; 
All the homely smiles and tears 
Ever given childish years ; 
Every open, generous deed 
Lending help to human need ; 
Every kindliness to age. 
Every impulse true and sage. 
Lifting concord out of strife. 
Bringing beauty into life : 
These no feeble faith can ban 
Ever from the pipes of Pan. 

Think you Pan forgets the scheme 
Or the cadence of his theme ? 
Ah, your wit must still discover 
No mere madness of a lover. 
Headstrong, whimsical, and blind. 
But a prompting sane and kind. 
Scope and purpose, hint and plan, 

29 



THE PIPES OF PAN 



Lurking in the pipes of Pan ; 
Calling ever, smooth and clear, 
Courage to the heeding ear; 
Fluting ever, sw^eet and high. 
Wisdom to the passer-by ; 
Sounding ever, soft and far. 
Happiness no grief can mar. 

This enchantment Pan bequeaths 
Unto every lip that breathes ; 
Cunning unto every hand 
Agile under will's command; 
Unto every human heart 
The inheritance of art, 
Lighted only by a gleam 
Of the dear and deathless dream,- 
Power out of hurt and stain 
To bring beauty back again. 
And life's loveliness restore 
To a toiling age once more. 

30 



THE PIPES OF PAN 



Yes, the world is growing old, 
But the joys it used to hold. 
Love and beauty, only grow 
Greater as they come and go, — 
Larger, keener, and more splendid. 
Seen to be superbly blended, 
As the cadenced years go by. 
Into chord and melody. 
Strong and clear as ever ran 
Over the rude pipes of Pan. 

So the music passed and died 
In the dark green mountain side ; 
The entranced ravine took on 
A new purple^ faint and wan ; 
And I heard across the hush 
A far solitary thrush 
From the hemlocks deep and still 
Fluting day upon the bill. 



31 



MARSYAS. 

In Celaenae by Meander lived a youth once long 

ago, 
And one passion great and splendid brimmed 

his heart to overflow, — 
Filled the world for him with beauty, sense and 

colour, joy and glow. 

Not ambition and not power, love nor luxury 

nor fame, 
Beckoned him to join their pageant, summoned 

Marsyas by name, 
Bidding unreluctant spirit dare to keep the 
soaring aim ; 



32 



M A R S Y A S 



But the sorceries of music, note and rapture, 

tone and thrill, 
Sounding the serene enchantment over meadow, 

stream and hill. 
Blew for him the undesisting magic call-note, 

followed still. 

And he followed. Heart of wonder, how the 

keen blue smoke upcurled 
From the shepherd huts to heaven ! How the 

dew lay silver-pearled 
Where sleek sided cattle wandered through the 

morning of the world ! 

On a stream bank lay the idler dreaming 
dreams — for it was Spring — 

And he heard the frogs in chorus make the 
watery marshes ring ; 

Heard new comers at their nesting in the vine- 
yards pipe and sing ; 

33 



M A R S Y A S 



Heard the river lisp below him ; heard the wind 

chafe reed on reed ; 
Every earth-imprisoned creature finding vent 

and voice at need. 
Ah ! if only so could mortal longing and delight 

be freed ! 

Hark ! What piercing unknown cry comes steal- 
ing o'er the forest ground, 

Pouring sense and soul together in an ecstasy 
new-found ? 

Dream's fulfilment brought to pass and life 
untethered at a bound ! 

Then it pauses, and the youth beyond the river- 
bend perceives 

A divine one in her beauty stand, half-hidden 
by the leaves, 

Fingering a wondrous wood-pipe, whence the 
clear sound joys or grieves. 

34 



M A R S Y A S 



As he looked, entranced and musing at the 

marvel of the strain, 
All her loveliness uncinctured with a madness 

touched his brain, 
And love, like a vernal fever, dyed him with its 

scarlet stain. 

But Athene, glancing downward in the silver 

of the stream, 
As she fluted, saw her perfect mouth distorted 

by a seam ; 
Faltered, stopped, and, disconcerted, seemed to 

ponder half in dream 

For a rueful moment ; and then with reluctance 

tossed the reed 
She had fashioned in a happy leisure mood to 

serve her need 
Back into the tranquil river, nothing but a river 

weed, 

35 



M A R S Y A S 



All the cunning life that filled it quenched and 

spilt and flung away, 
To go seaward to oblivion on a wandering 

stream. But stay ! 
The young Phrygian lad has seen it, — marked 

the current set his way, — 

Stooped and picked it from the water ; put the 

treasure-trove to lip ; 
Blown his first breath, faint yet daring ; felt the 

wild notes crowd and slip 
Into melody and meaning from each testing 

finger-tip. 

Then, ah, then had mortal spirit sweep and 
room at last to range 

The lost limits of creation and the borderlands 
of change. 

All earth's loveliness transmuting into some- 
thing new and strange ; 

36 



M A R S Y A S 



All of beauty, all of knowledge, all of wonder, 

fused and caught 
In the rhythmus of the music, weaving out of 

sense and thought 
And a touch of love the fabric out of which the 

world was wrought. 

And the joy of each new cadence, as the glad 
notes pressed and cried. 

Eager for the strain's fulfilment, as they rose 
and merged and died 

In the music's utmost measure, filled the rose- 
grey mountain side, — 

Touched the sheep-bells in the meadow, moved 

the rushes in the stream, 
And suffused the youth with glory as he passed 

from theme to theme; 
Made him as the gods of morning in the ampler 

air of dream. 

37 



M A R S y A S 



Ah, what secret, what enchantment so could 

help the human need, 
Save the breath of life that lingered in the hollow 

of the reed, 
Since the careless mouth of beauty blessed it — 

with so little heed ? 

There he stood, a youth transfigured in the 

young world's golden glow. 
Made immortal in a moment by the music's 

melting flow. 
Pattern of the artist's glory for the after years 

to know. 

There he stands for us in picture, with the pipe 

whereon he plays ; 
The slow, large-eyed cattle wonder, and the 

flocks forget to graze. 
While upon the hill a shepherd turns and listens 

in amaze. 

38 



M A R S Y A S 



In the woods the timid creatures, reassured, 
approach and peer, 

Half aware the charm's allurement they must 
follow as they hear 

Is the first far-looked-for presage of the banish- 
ment of fear. 

Silence falls upon the woodland, quiet settles on 

the plain ; 
Earth and air and the blue heaven, without 

harm or taint or stain. 
Are restored to their old guise of large serenity 

again. 

Thus the player at his piping in the early mode 

and grave 
Took from Wisdom the inventress what the 

earth in bounty gave. 
And therein to round completion put the beating 

heart and brave. 

39 



M A R S Y A S 



So, you artists and musicians, earth awaits per- 
fection still ; 

Wisdom tarries by the brookside, beauty loiters 
on the hill, 

For the love that shall reveal them with the yet 
undreamed-of skill. 

Love be therefore all your passion, the one 

ardour that ye spend 
To enhance the craft's achievement with signi- 

cance and trend. 
Making faultless the wild strain that else were 

faulty to the end. 

Love must lend the magic cadence — that un- 
earthly dying fall 

When the simple sweet earth-music takes us 
captive past recall. 

And the loved one and the lover lose this world, 
nor care at all. 

40 



SYRINX. 

Once I saw (O breath of Summer!) In the azure 

prime of June, 
When the Northland takes her joy and sets her 

wintered life in tune, 
The soft wind come down the river, where a 

heron slept at noon; 

Stir the ripening meadow-grasses, lift the lily- 
pads, and stray 

Through the tall green ranks of rushes bowing 
to its ghostly sway; 

Then I heard it, like a whisper of the world, take 
voice and say: 



41 



SYRINX 

" Mortal by the wood-wind's murmur and the 

whisper of the stream, 
I, who am the breath of grasses and the soul of 

Summer's dream, 
Once was Syrinx, whom a great god loved and 

lost and made the theme 

" Of his mournful minor music. Nay, I who 

had worn the guise 
Which allured him, yet eluded, vanishing before 

his eyes. 
When his heart held lonely commune, taking 

counsel to devise 

" Some new solace for sad lovers that should give 

the spirit vent, 
Lovelier than speech of mortals where the stricken 

soul is pent 
And the longing gropes for language large enough 

for beauty's bent ; 



42 



SYRINX 

*' When he drew the reeds and ranged them, 
rank by rank from low to shrill, 

Bound them with the flax together — I was in- 
spiration still, 

I was heartache crying through them, I was echo 
on the hill. 

" And forever I am cadence, joyous, welling, 

sad or fond, 
When the breath of god or mortal, breaking 

time's primeval bond, 
Blows upon the mouths of wood and all the 

mellow throats respond. 

" Not a flute, but I have hidden in its haunted 

hollow mould ; 
In the deep Sicilian twilight, when the shepherd 

piped to fold, 
I have been the eerie calling of the Pan pipes 

rude and old; 



43 



SYRINX 

" From the ivory monaulos, when the soft Egyp- 
tian stars 

Sentried Cleopatra's gardens, through the open 
window-bars 

I went forth, a splendid torment, o'er the dream- 
ing nenuphars. 

" In the silver-mounted laurel played by some 

Byzantine boy, 
I was frenzy, when the throng night after night 

went mad for joy. 
As the dancer Theodora made the Emperor her 

toy. 

" In the boxwood bound with gold I drew my 
captives down the Nile, 

To the love-feasts of Bubastis, lovers by the thou- 
sand file. 

Willing converts to my love-call, children of the 
changeless smile. 



44 



SYRINX 

*' Babylonian Mylftta heard me keep the limpid 

tune, 
When the lovers danced before her at the feast 

of the new moon, 
Till the rosy flowers of beauty through her sacred 

groves were strewn. 

" And Sidonian Astarte and the Asian Cypriote 
Knew the large unhurried measure of my earth- 
sweet pagan rote. 
When the dancing youths before them followed 
me from note to note. 

" Where some lithe Bithynian flute-boy, nude and 
golden in the sun. 

Set his red mouth to the twin pipes, I was in each 
pause and run, 

When his manhood took the meaning of the love- 
notes one by one. 



45 



S Y R I X X 

" And amid the fields of iris by the blue Ionian 
sea, 

I was solemn-hearted sweetness and pure passion 
soon to be 

In the dark-haired little maid who piped her bud- 
ding melody. 

" I was youth and love and rapture, I was mad- 
ness in their veins, 

Calling through the heats of Summer, calling in 
the soft Spring rains, 

From the olive Phr}-gian hillsides and the deep 
Boeotian plains. 

" I but blew, and mortals followed ; I but 
breathed, and they were glad, — 

King and mendicant and sailor, courtesan and 
shepherd lad ; 

For there is no creed nor canon laid on music's 
mvriad. 



46 



SYRINX 

" Not a tribe nor race nor people born in darkest 

savagery, 
Dwellers in the Afric forest or the islands of the 

sea, 
But I wooed them from their war-drums — made 

them gentle — set them free. 

" Silence fell upon the tam-tams throbbing terror 

through the night, 
And the prayer-gongs ceased to conjure cowering 

villages with fright. 
When my cool note, clear as morning, called 

them to a new delight. 

" I, the breath of flute and oboe, golden wood 

and silver reed, 
Put away their fear, and taught them with my 

love-tone to give heed. 
When the love grew large within them, to the 

lovely spirit's need. 



47 



SYRINX 

" Henceforth no mere frantic rhythm of beat- 
ing foot and patting hand, 

Nor monotonous marimba could suffice for soul's 
demand, 

When Joy called her wa5rworn children and 
Peace wandered through the land. 

" Love must build a better music than the strum- 
ming tambourine, 

To ensphere his worlds of wonder, height and 
depth and space between. 

Pleasure-lands for Soul, the lover, to preempt 
as his demesne. 

" So he took the simple reed-note, as a dewdrop 
clear and round. 

Blew it (magic of creation!) to the tenuous pro- 
found 

Of sheer gladness, light and colour of the universe 
of sound. 



48 



SYRINX 

" And there soars the shining structure, tone on 

tone as star on star, 
Spheres of knowledge and of beauty, where love's 

compensations are, 
And the plenitudes of spirit move to rhythm 

without a jar; 

" Every impulse in its orbit swinging to the 
utmost range 

Of the normal sweep of being, through un- 
fathomed gulfs of change, 

Poised, unswerved, and never finding aught un- 
lovely or unstrange. 

" When some dark Peruvian lover set the love- 
flute to his lip, 

I was the new soft enchantment loosed upon the 
dusk, to slip 

Through the trees and thrill the loved one from 
warm nape to finger-tip; 



49 



SYRINX 

" Till she could not choose but follow where 
my player piped for her; 

So I roused the love within her, set the gipsy 
pulse astir, 

With my w^ild delicious pleading, strong as in- 
cense, fine as myrrh. 

" When for love the Winnebago took his court- 
ing-flute and played 

His wild theme for days together near the lodge- 
door of his maid, 

I was ritual and rapture of the triumph he 
essayed. 

" And my brown Malayan lovers pierce the living 

gold bamboo, 
For the lone melodious accents of the wind to 

wander through. 
While my haunting spirit tells them many a 

secret old and true. 



SO 



SYRINX 

" In the soft Sumatran pan-flute with its seven 

notes I plead ; 
I am help to the Marquesan in his slender scarlet 

reed; 
From the immemorial East I draw my dark-eyed 

gipsy breed. 

" Chukma, Dyak, Mahalaka, Papuan and 

Ashanti, 
Hillmen from the Indian snows, canoemen from 

the Carib sea, 
Tribesmen from the world's twelve corners, at 

my whisper come to me — 

" All the garlanded earth-children in their gala 

bright array, 
Laughing like the leaves, or sighing like the 

grass-heads which I sway; 
For my lure is swift to lead them, and my solace 

strong to stay. 



51 



SYRINX 

" And the road must melt before them and their 

piping fill all lands, 
Till a new world at their fluting like a magic 

flower expands, 
And Soul's unexplored dominion is surrendered to 

their hands. 

" Did not I, the woodbreath, calling, make thy 
mortal pulses ring. 

And thy many-seasoned roof-tree with its dusty 
rafters sing? 

Was not I the long sweet love-throb in the music- 
house of Spring? 

" Think how all the golden willows and the 

maples crimson-keyed. 
Kept the rare appointed season, flowering at the 

instant need, 
When the wood-pipes gave my summons and the 

marshy flutes were freed! 



52 



SYRINX 

'■ Love be, then, in every heart-beat, whtn the year 

comes round to June, 
And life reaches up to rapture, lingering on the 

perfect tune. 
As this evening in your valley silvered by the 

early moon." 

Thus I heard the voice of Syrinx, by the dreamy 

river shore. 
Sift and cease, as one might pass through a large 

room and close the door; 
And I knew myself a stranger on this lovely earth 

no more. 



53 



THE MAGIC FLUTE. 

Hear, O Syrinx, thou lost dryad ! Marsyas, thou 

mortal, hear! 
If to lovely and free spirits it is granted to draw 

near 
And revisit the vv^hole earth from some far-off 

and tw^illght sphere, 

Like the limpid star of evening hanging o'er the 
dark hill brow^. 

Globed in light to touch this valley where a wor- 
shipper I bow, 

O give heed, and of your wisdom help a mortal 
lover now! 



54 



THE MAGIC FLUTE 



Lend him, novice at your flute-work, learner of 

the magic cry. 
Something, howsoever faulty, of that cunning 

ecstasy, — 
The inevitable cadence where the raptures pause 

and die, — 

You could marshal at your bidding from the 
wind-blown river reeds, — 

Mark to rhythm and mould to beauty, — plastic 
for perfection's needs; 

Skill to give the spirit lodgment where the long- 
ing fancy leads! 

Souls of lovers lost in music! You who were 

beloved of Pan, 
Piping madness through the meadow where the 

silver river ran, 
You who, favoured of Athene, found her careless 

gift to man, — 



55 



THE MAGIC FLUTE 



O Stray hither, and recalling some such earth- 
born golden hour, 

When the thrushes eased their sorrow, and the 
laurel was in flower. 

Give this last lost child of nature one least pit- 
tance of your power! 

So he shall be well accounted love's own minstrel 

first and best, 
By another shy wild Syrinx w^hen he puts the 

gift to test. 
For a single day immortal. And the gods make 

good the rest! 

Hear, sweetheart, the lonely thrushes! Pure and 

pleading up the clove. 
From the dark moon-haunted hemlocks and the 

spacious dim beech grove. 
Pierced by love's own silver planet with a path for 

us to rove, 



56 



THE MAGIC FLUTE 



Comes the rapture, clear, unsullied, undistracted, 

undismayed, 
Heart of earth that still remembers how her 

strength and joy were made, 
When the breath of life was given and the touch 

of doom was stayed, — 

The great joyance of creation welling through 

the world once more; 
Love in power and pride and passion, crying still 

at beauty's door; 
Soul in contemplation ranging the star-lighted 

forest floor. 

Once . . . O little girl, lift up that dear, wild, 

tender wood-nymph's face 
To your lover's who so loves you, gladdening 

all this leafy place. 
Where as music merged in moonshine sense and 

spirit interlace! 



57 



THE MAGIC FLUTE 



In the first of time was Hathor, the Eg>^ptian 

Ashtoreth, 
She who bore the mighty Sun and quickened 

nature with her breath, 
Rocked the cradle of the Nile and gave men life 

and gave them death. 

Once to share her mysteries, when earth grew 

green with spring, there came 
To her temple in Bubastis, needy and unknown 

to fame, 
A young herdsman golden-haired and tall, 

Argalioth by name. 

And his undeflowered beauty, fair as lotus, slim as 

palm. 
With his voice like sweet hill-water sounding in 

the choric psalm, 
Touched the mighty heart there brooding in 

inviolable calm. 



58 



THE MAGIC FLUTE 



And a sigh as of the wind arose; the song was 

hushed ; the veil 
Of the Shrine, which none might enter, moved 

and shimmered like a sail, 
Or the golden boreal lights that hang across our 

Northern trail. 

In astonishment the dancers halted. Then the 
voice said " Peace! 

Let my son Argalioth come near. It is a gift of 
peace. 

Henceforth only truth and goodness, finding vir- 
tue, shall find peace." 

Then the lad arose and went behind the veil, and 

all was still. 
Slowly, as from out all distance, rising far and 

fine and shrill, 
Came a flute-note, strong as sea-wind, clear as 

morning on the hill, — 



59 



THE MAGIC FLUTE 



Grew and gained and swelled and triumphed, 

lingering from tone to tone, 
Golden deep to silver treble, pure and passionate 

and lone. 
Marking time to things eternal, touching bounds 

of spirit's zone, 

Filling all the space between with all the wonder 

and despair — 
Reach and compass and fulfilment soul could ever 

dream or dare — 
Of the bliss beyond all telling, when the wild 

sense grows aware. 

Then before those spellbound watchers from the 
Holy Place returned 

The youth, girt in scarlet linen, with a counte- 
nance where burned 

The great glory of his vision and the secret he had 
learned. 



60 



THE MAGIC FLUTE 



In his hand a yellow flute-reed bound with seven 

silver bands; 
From brown foot to red-gold hair a figure that 

might haunt all lands 
With distraction and enthralment, while this 

earth in beauty stands. 

Not a word he spoke; serenely trod the marble 

to the door; 
Set the flute to mouth, and piping strains no ear 

had heard before, 
Passed out through the golden weather, and no 

man beheld him more. 

Yet there lingered, ah, what music! Not a lis- 
tener in that throng. 

Through the years that came upon him, but at 
times would hear the long 

Piercing and melodious cadence, summer-sweet 
and autumn-strong, 



6i 



THE MAGIC FLUTE 



Heard so long ago; and always, as if musing, he 

would say, 
** It is Hathor's magic flute. In some blue valley 

far away. 
By a well among the palms her wanderer has 

paused to play! " 

For through all the earth he wandered with his 

magic pipe ; and none 
Heard that piping, but they straightway knew 

that their old life was done, 
And the glamour was upon them, prudence lost 

and freedom won. 

He it was w^ho touched with madness, soft sweet 

madness of the spring, 
The green-throated frogs, whose chorus makes 

the grassy meadows ring, 
And the birds who come with April, and must 

break their heart or sing; 



62 



THE MAGIC FLUTE 



Touched his fellow mortals even with a madness 

of the mind, 
Till they, too, must rise and follow, leaving 

sober tasks behind, 
While a thing called love possessed them with 

a craving sweet and blind, 

And they knew no fear thereafter, save the one 
supreme despair, — 

Having loved, to lose the loved one, the one 
lovely friend could share 

The vast loneliness of being. What mute bitter- 
ness were there! 

And we all are Hathor's children, brothers of the 

frogs and birds. 
Who have listened once forever to the pipe whose 

magic words 
None can fathom, though we follow dumbly as 

the flocks and herds. 



63 



THE MAGIC FLUTE 



Thenceforth howsoe'er we wander, all our care 

is but to know 
Truth, the Sorceress whose spell of beauty can 

entrance us so, 
As it was with happy lovers in their wisdom long 

ago. 

And to all men once a lifetime comes that music 
sweet and shrill. 

Pleading for the life's perfection, good's prefer- 
ment over ill. 

Beauty's issue from debasement, the deliverance 
of will. 

Many hear it not, or hearing turn with heedless 

hearts away. 
Or their soul is deaf with greed or lust or anger 

or dismay. 
And the precious fateful moment passes. But 

the wise are they, 



64 



THE MAGIC FLUTE 



Who preserve without disquiet the serene and 
open mind, 

The impassioned poise of spirit, lodged in senses 
more refined 

Than the quaking aspen breathed on by the un- 
seen secret wind. 

So in spite of tears and turmoil many a radiant 

hour they know, 
Hearing o'er the roofs of men the far off magic 

woodpipes blow, 
With a message for the morrow bidding them 

arise and go. 

And that message? What I cherish most, this 

sweet white night of June, 
When from sheath of fragrant lace-work slips one 

shoulder, like the moon 
From the pine-tops with a lustre such as made 

its lover swoon. 



^S 



THE MAGIC FLUTE 



Once on Latmus; when your hair falls, like a 

vine the stars peep through ; 
When I kiss your heart out, much as mighty Pan 

the reed-pith drew. 
And your breath in one " Beloved ! " answers 

like the reed he blew ; 

What I prize most, and most treasure, is this 

knowledge great and sure: 
He who knows love, knows the secret, — he who 

has love has the lure, — 
Of the strain whereto this earth w^as moulded 

well and must endure. 

Hush, ah, hush! Lie still! The music is not 

yet gone from the firs, 
Haply here the Ancient Mother, in this solitude 

of hers, 
Where the mighty veil of silence, leaves and stars, 

the hill-wind stirs, 



66 



THE MAGIC FLUTE 



Some new larger revelation would vouchsafe 

to you and me 
Of the sorceries of summer or the secret of the 

sea, 
Whose sheer beauty shall enthral us while its 

truth shall set us free. 

O my golden Syrinx, surely we have heard the 

magic flute, 
Whose dark wild mysterious transport in a 

moment can transmute 
All the heart and life forever, making spirits 

that were mute 

Musical and glad! And we have listened to 

that lost flute-strain. 
Whose long sweet and sobbing minor is the 

record of the rain, — 
Whose proud passion is the gladness when the 

spring comes back again. 



67 



THE MAGIC FLUTE 



Hark, the thrushes at their fluting ! The old wiz- 
ardry and stress 

Of entrancement are upon them. Wise ones of 
the wilderness, 

Who can say but they have burdens of a joy 
beyond our guess? 

Long since did the magic minstrel take them 

silent from the bough 
In his hands, and vrith the secret breath of life 

their throats endow, 
As this rose-red mouth of beauty burning meward 

I do now! 



68 



A SHEPHERD IN LESBOS. 

All night long my cabin roof resounded 
With the mighty murmur of the rain ; 
All night long I heard the silver cohorts 
Tramping down the valley to the plain ; 

All night long the ringing rain-drops volleyed 
On the hollow drum-heads of the leaves 
In a wild tattoo, while gusty hill-winds 
Fifed The Young Pans' March about the eaves. 

So all night within the mountain forest 
Passed the shadowy forces at review; 
And they bore me back to time's beginning 
When the wonder of the world was new. 



^ 



A SHEPHERD IN LESBOS 

Then from out the gloom there came a vision 
Of the beauty of the earth of old, — 
The unclouded face and gracious figure, 
Filleted with laurel and green-stoled, 

Such as Daphne wore the day she wandered 
Through the silent beech-wood of the god. 
When a sunray through the roof of shadows 
Wheeled and stole behind her where she trod, - 

When the loveliness of earth, transfigured 
By one touch of rapture, grew divine, 
Ere it fled before the unveiled presence 
To indwell forever its green shrine. 

Like a mist I saw the hair's gold glory, 
The grave eyes, the childish scarlet lip. 
And the rose-pink fervour that afforded 
Soul the sheath to fill from tip to tip. 



7c 



A SHEPHERD IN LESBOS 

On her mouth she laid a warning finger, i 

And her slow calm enigmatic smile 
Told me, ere she spoke, one-half the message; 
Then I heard (my heart stood still the while), 

" Mortal, wouldst thou know the maddening 

transport 
No mere earth-born lover may attain, 
Till some woodland deity hath loved him. 
And her beauty mounted to his brain ? 

" Thenceforth he becomes, with her for mistress, 
Master of the moods and minds of men. 
Moulding as he will their deeds and daring. 
All their follies open to his ken; 

" Yet is he a wanderer forever. 
Without respite seeking the unknown. 
Wouldst thou leave the world for one who offers 
But the beauty bounded by her zone?" 



7« 



A SHEPHERD IN LESBOS 

When I woke in golden morning dyeing 
The dark valley and the purple hill, 
Flushing at the doorway of the forest, 
Flowered my mountain laurel, cool and still. 

How I chose ? Have ye not heard in Lesbos 
Of a mad young shepherd by the shore, 
Whose w^ild piping bids the traveller tarry 
Some immortal sorrow to deplore? 

On a morning by the river marges 
Many a passer-by hath heard that strain, 
Sweet and sad and strange and full of longing 
As a bird-note through the purple rain. 

In a maze the haunted music holds them 
With its meaning past all guess or care; 
With its magic note the lonely cadence 
Swells and sinks and dies upon the air; 



72 



A SHEPHERD IN LESBOS 

And they say, " It is the stricken shepherd 
Whom the nymph's enchantment set astray, 
And the spell of his bewildering vision 
Holds him fast a lover from that day. 

" His dark theme no mortal may interpret; 
But forever when the wood-pipes blow, 
Some remembered and mysterious echo 
Calls us unresisting and we go." 



73 



DAPHNE. 

I know that face ! 

In some lone forest place, 

When June brings back the laurel to the hills, 

Where shade and sunlight lace. 

Where all day long 

The brown birds make their song — 

A music that seems never to have known 

Dismay nor haste nor wrong — 

I once before 

Have seen thee by the shore, 

As if about to shed the flowery guise 

And be thyself once more. 



74 



DAPHNE 

Dear, shy, soft face. 

With just the elfin trace 

That lends thy human beauty the last touch 

Of wild, elusive grace ! 

Can it be true, 

A god did once pursue 

Thy gleaming beauty through the glimmering 

wood, 
Drenched in the Dorian dew, 

Too mad to stay 
His hot and headstrong way. 
Demented by the fragrance of thy flight. 
Heedless of thy dismay ? 

But I to thee 

More gently fond would be. 

Nor less a lover woo thee with soft words 

And woodland melody ; 

75 



DAPHNE 

Take pipe and play 

Each forest fear away ; 

Win thee to idle in the leafy shade 

All the long Summer day ; 

Tell thee old tales 

Of love, that still avails 

More than all mighty things in this great world, 

Still wonderworks nor fails ; 

Teach thee new lore. 
How to love more and more, 
And find the magical delirium 
In joys unguessed before. 

I would try over 

And over to discover 

Some wild, sweet, foolish, irresistible 

New way to be thy lover — 



76 



DAPHNE 

New, wondrous ways 

To fill thy golden days, 

Thy lovely pagan body with delight, 

Thy loving heart with praise. 

For I would learn. 

Deep in the brookside fern, 

The magic of the syrinx whispering low 

With bubbly fall and turn ; 

Mock every note 

Of the green woodbird's throat. 

Till some wild strain, impassioned yet serene, 

Should form and float 

Far through the hills. 

Where mellow sunlight fills 

The world with joy, and from the purple vines 

The brew of life distils. 



77 



DAPHNE 

Ah, then indeed 

Thy heart should have no need 

To tremble at a footfall in the brake, 

And bid thy bright limbs speed. 

But night would come, 

And I should make thy home 

In the deep pines, lit by a yellow star 

Hung in the dark blue dome — 

A fragrant house 

Of woven balsam boughs. 

Where the great Cyprian mother should receive 

Our warm unsullied vows. 



78 



THE LOST DRYAD. 

Where are you gone from the forest, 
Leaving the mountain-side lonely 
And all the beech woods deserted, 
O my dear Daphne ? 

All the day long I go seeking 
Trace of your flowerlike footprint. 
Will not the dew on the meadow 
Tell tale of Daphne ? 

Will not the sand on the sea-shore 
Treasure that magical impress 
For the disconsolate longing 
Lover of Daphne ? 



79 



THE LOST DRYAD 



Will not the moss and the fern-bed 
Bearing the mould of her beauty, 
Tell me where wandered and rested 
Rose-golden Daphne ? 

All the night through I go hearkening 
Every wild murmurous echo, — 
Hint of your laughter, — the birdlike 
Voice of my Daphne. 

Why do the poplar leaves whisper 
Things to themselves in the silence, 
Though no wind visits the valley. 
Daphne, my Daphne ? 

Listen ! I hear their small voices. 
An elfin multitude, mingle. 
Lisping in silver-leaf language, 
" Daphne, O Daphne ! " 



80 



THE LOST DRYAD 



Listen ! I hear the cold hill-brook 
Plash down the clove on its pebbles, 
And the ravine drenched in moonlight 
Echoing, " Daphne ! *' 

" Daphne," the rain says at nightfall; 
" Daphne," the wind breathes at morning ; 
And a voice troubles the hot noon 
Uttering " Daphne." 

Ah, what impassioned remembrance, 
In the dark pines in the starlight, 
Touches the dream of your wood-thrush, 
O my lost Daphne, 

Dyeing his sleep like a bubble 
Coloured for joy, and the note comes, 
Golden, enchanted, eternal, 
Calling for Daphne ! 



THE LOST DRYAD 



O Mother Earth, at how many 
Thresholds of lone-dwelling mortals 
Must I, a wayfarer, tarry. 
Asking for Daphne ? — 

How many times see their faces 
Fade to incredulous wonder, 
Hearing in some remote vale 
The story of Daphne, 

Ere I at last through the twilight 
Hear the soft rapturous outcry. 
And as of old there will greet me 
Far-wandered Daphne ? 



82 



THE DEAD FAUN. 

Who hath done this thing ? What wonder is 

this that lies 
On the green earth so still under purple skies, 
Like a hyacinth shaft the careless mower has 

cut 

And thought of no more ? 

Who hath wrought this pitiful wrong on the 

lovely earth ? 
What ruthless hand could ruin that harmless 

mirth ? 
O heart of things, what undoing is here, never 

now 

To be mended more ! 



83 



THE DEAD FAUN 



No more, O beautiful boy, shall thy fleet feet 

stray 
Through the cool beech wood on the shadowy 

mountain way, 
Nor halt by the well at noon, nor trample the 

flowers 

On the forest floor. 

Thy beautiful light-seeing gold-green eyes, so 

glad 
When day came over the hill, so wondrous sad 

When the burning sun went slowly under the 
sea, 

Shall look no more. 



84 



THE DEAD FAUN 

Thy nimble fingers that plucked the fruit from 

the bough, 
Or fondled the nymph's bright hair and filleted 

brow, 
Or played the wild mellow pipe of thy father 

Pan, 

Shall play no more. 

Thy sensitive ears that knew all the speech of 

the wood. 
Every call of the birds and the creatures, and 

understood 
What the wind to the water said, what the 

river replied. 

Shall hear no more. 



85 



THE DEAD FAUN 

Thy scarlet and lovely mouth which the dryads 

knew, 
Dear whimsical ardent mouth that love spoke 

through, 
For all the kisses of life that it took and gave. 
Shall say no more. 

Who hath trammelled those feet that never 

again shall rove ? 
Who hath bound these hands that never again 

shall move ? 
Who hath quenched the lamp In those eyes that 

never again 

Shall be lighted more? 



§6 



THE DEAD FAUN 



Who hath stopped those ears from our heart- 
broken words forever ? 

Who hath sealed that wonderful mouth with Its 
secret forever ? 

Who hath touched this innocent being with 
pitiless death, 

And he is no more ? 

He was fair as a mortal and spiritual as a 

flower ; 
He knew no hate, but was happy within the 

hour. 
The Gods had given him beauty and freedom 

and joy. 

Could they give no more ? 



87 



THE DEAD FAUN 



Is all their wisdom and power so fond a thing ? 
Must he perish, nor ever return with returning 

Spring, 
But be left like a dead-ripe fruit on the ground 

for a stranger 

To find and deplore ? 

They have given to mortal man the immortal 

scope, 
The perilous chance, unrest and remembrance 

and hope. 
That imperfection may come to perfection still 
Bv some fabled shore. 



88 



THE DEAD FAUN 



Did they give this being, this marvellous work 

of their hands, 
No breath of the greater life with its grief and 

demands ? 
Do beauty and love without bitter knowledge 

attain 

This and no more ? 

The wind may whisper to him, he will heed 

no more ; 
The leaves may murmur and lisp, he will 

laugh no more ; 
The oreads weep and be heavy at heart for 

him, 

He will care no more. 



89 



THE DEAD FAUN 



The reverberant thrushes may peal from the 
hemlock glooms, 

The summer clouds be woven on azure looms ; 

He is done with all lovely things of earth for- 
ever 

And ever morco 



90 



HYLAS. 

Cool were the grey-mottled beeches, 
Quiet with noon were the fern-beds, 
Where by the bubbling spring water 
Tarried young Hylas. 

Whistling a song of the rowers, 
Dipping his jar till it gurgled, 
Suddenly there the bright naiads 
(Woe for thee, Hylas!) 

Looked and beheld his fair beauty 
Better their well-head, and straightway 
Exquisite longing possessed them 
Only for Hylas. 



91 



H Y L A S 

When he returned not at sundown, 
" Over long," said his companions, 
As slow dismay came upon them, 
" Tarries young Hylas." 

Never again did his comrades 
Find the lost rower, nor maidens 
See from their doorways at twilight 
Home-coming Hylas. 

Thenceforth another must labour 
To the timed thud of his rowlock. 
And only legends keep tally 
Of the lost Hylas. 

Yet even now, when the springtime 
Verdures the valley, and rain-winds 
Voyage for lands undiscovered, 
As once did Hylas, 



92 



H Y L A S 



With a great star on the hill-crest 
In purple evening, a flute-note 
Pierces the dusk, and a voice calls, 
"Hylas, Hylas!" 



93 



AT PH^DRA'S TOMB. 

What old grey ruin can this be, 
Beside the blue Saronic Sea ? 
What tomb is this, what temple here. 
Thus side by side so many a year ? 

This is that temple Phaedra built 

To Aphrodite, having spilt 

Her whole heart's great warm love in vain. 

One lovely mortal's love to gain ; 

Yet trusting by that fervent will, 

Consuming and unconquered still, 

In spite of failure and of fate, 

By favour of the gods to sate 

Her splendid lost imperious 

Mad love for young Hippolytus, 

Whose brilliant beauty seemed to glow 

94 



AT PH^DRA'S TOMB 



Like a tall Alp in rosy snow, 

While love and passion, wind and fire. 

Flared through the field of her desire. 

" Great Mother, come from Paphos now 

With benediction on thy brow. 

And pity ! Not beneath the sun 

Lives such another hapless one. 

O Aphrodite of the sea, 

For love have mercy upon me ! 

Give me his beauty now to slake 

This body's longing and soul's ache ! 

Touch his cold heart until he know 

The divine sorrow of love's woe." 

What madness hers, what folly his ! 
And all their beauty come to this 
Epitome of mortal doom — 
A name, a story, and a tomb ! 



95 



AT PH^DRA'S TOMB 



Have ye not seen the fog from sea 
On Autumn mornings silently 
Steal in to land, and wrap the sun 
With its grey, cold oblivion ? 

The goddess would not smile on her, 
On him no gentler mood confer. 
He still must flush his maiden whim ; 
She still must leash her love for him, 
A fancy lawless and superb. 
Too wild to tame, too strong to curb. 
Too great for her to swerve or stay 
In our half-hearted modern way. 

Have ye not seen the fog from land 
Blow out to sea, and leave the band 
Of orange marsh and lilac shore 
To brood in Autumn peace once more ? 



96 



AT PH^DRA'S TOMB 

So there survives the magic fame 

Of her imperishable name, — 

Light from a time when love was great, 

And strong hearts had no fear of fate. 

But lived and strove and wrought and died, 

With beauty for their only guide. 

And yet this temple, raised and wrought 
With prayers and tears, availed her naught. 
The years with it have had their will ; 
Her soft name is a by-word still 
For thwarted spirit, vexed and teased 
By yearnings that cannot be eased, — 
The soul that chafes upon the mesh 
Of tenuous yet galling flesh. 

How blue that midday shadow is 
In the white dust of Argolis ! . . . 
This is her tomb. . . . See, near at hand. 
This myrtle ! Here she used to stand 

97 



AT PHy^iDRA'S TOMB 

Those days when her love-haunted eyes 
Saw her new-builded hope arise, 
Watching the masons set the stone 
And fingering her jewelled zone. 
Or moving restless to and fro. 
Her pale brows knit a little, so. 

Look ! every leaf pierced through and through 
I doubt not the gold pin she drew 
From her dark hair, and, as the storm 
Of love swept through her lovely form 
With pique and passion, thrust on thrust. 
Vented her vehemence. O dust, 
That once entempled such a flame 
With beauty, colour, line and name, 
And gave great Love a dwelling-place 
Behind so fair, so sad a face. 
Where is thy wilful day-dream now. 
That passionate lip, that moody brow ? 



98 



AT PHAEDRA'S TOMB 

Ah, fair Greek woman, if there bloom 
Some flower of knowledge in the gloom, 
Receive the piteous, loving sigh 
Of one more luckless passer-by. 
Peace, peace, wild heart ! Unsatisfied 
Has every mortal lived and died, 
Since thy dear beauty found a bed 
Forever with the dreaming dead, 
In seagirt Hellas long ago. 
Immortal for thy mortal woe ' 



99 



A YOUNG PAN'S PRAYER 

pipes of Pan, 
Make me a man, 

As only your piercing music can ! 

When I set my lip 

To your reedy lip. 

And you feel the urging man-breath slip 

Through fibre and flake, 

Bidding you wake 

To the strange new being for beauty's sake, 

1 pray there be 
Returned to me 

The strength of the hills and the strength of 
the sea. 



lOO 



A YOUNG PAN'S PRAYER 

river reed, 

In whom the need 

Of the journeying river once was freed. 

As of old your will 

Was the water's will, 

To quiver and call or sleep and be still, 

So now anew 

1 breathe in you 

The ardour no alchemy can subdue, 

And add the dream, — 

The immortal gleam 

That never yet fell on meadow or stream. 

I breathe and blow 

On your dumb mouth so. 

Till your lurking soul is alive and aglow. 

Ah, breathe in me 

The strength of the sea. 

The calm of the hills and the strength of the sea! 

lOI 



A YOUNG PAN'S PRAYER 

Love, joy, and fear. 

From my faint heart here. 

Shall melt in your cadence wild and clear. 

With freedom and hope 

I range and grope, 

Till I find new stops in your earthly scope. 

The pleading strain 

Of pathos and pain. 

The diminished chord and the lost refrain ; 

The piercing sigh. 

The joyous cry. 

The sense of what shall be bye and bye; 

The grief untold 

Out of man's heart old, 

Which endures that another may still be bold ; 

The wiser will 

That foregoes self-will 

And aspires to truth beyond trammel or ill ; 

102 



A YOUNG PAN'S PRAYER 

Ambition unsure, 

And the splendid lure 

Of whim in his harlequin vestiture ; 

And the reach of sound 

Into thought's profound ; 

All these I add to your power earth-bound ; 

But most, the awe 

That perceives where law 

Is revealed at last without fault or flaw, — 

The touch of mind 

That would search and find 

The measure of beauty, the purpose of kind. 

So with the fire 

Of man*s desire 

Your notes shall outreach the mountain choir. 

Brook, breeze, and bird 

Shall hear the Word, 

And know 'tis their master they have heard. 

103 



A YOUNG PAN'S PRAYER 

And the lowly reed, 

Whose only need 

Was to sigh with the wind in the river weed, 

Shall be heard as far 

As from star to star. 

Where Algol answers to Algebar. 

For the soul must trace 

Her wondrous race 

By a seventh sense on the charts of space, 

Till she come at last, 

Through the vague and vast. 

To her own heart's haven fixed and fast. 

pipes of Pan, 
Whose music ran 

Through the world ere ever my age began, 
When I set my lip 
To your woodland lip, 

1 pray some draft of your virtue slip 

104 



A YOUNG PAN'S PRAYER 

From each mellow throat, 

As note by note, 

A learner, I try for the secret rote, — 

The rhythm and theme 

That shall blend man's dream 

Of perfection with nature's imperfect scheme ! 

Blow low, blow high. 

Your haunting cry 

For me, a wayfarer passing by j 

Blow soft or keen, 

I shall listen and lean 

To catch what your whispered messages mean. 

I shall hear, and heed 

The voice of the reed. 

And be glad of my kinfolk's word, indeed. 

I shall hearken and hear 

Your untroubled cheer 

From the earth's deep heart, serene and clear. 

105 



A YOUNG PAN'S PRAYER 

Blow cold and shrill, 

As the wind from the hill, 

I yet shall follow to learn your will ; 

Blow soft and warm, 

As an April storm, 

I shall listen and feel my soul take form. 

Blow glad and strong, 

As the grosbeak's song, 

And I mount with you over hurt and wrong 

Blow little and thin. 

As the cricket's din j 

But my door is wide, and I bid them in. 

Blow, blow till there be 

Inbreathed in me 

Tinge of the loam and tang of the sea, — - 

A vagrom man. 

Favoured of Pan, 

Made out of ardour and sinew and tan, 

io6 



A YOUNG PAN'S PRAYER 

With the seeing eye 

For meadow and sky, 

The want only beauty can satisfy, 

And the wandering will. 

The questing will, 

The inquisitive, glad, unanxious will. 

That must up and away 

On the brave essay 

Of the fair and far through the long sweet day, — 

Of the fine and true. 

The wondrous and new. 

All the warm radiant bright world through. 

Blow me the tune 

Of the ripe red moon, 

I shall sleep like a child by the roadside soon ; 

And the tune of the sun ; 

When our piping is done, 

Lo, others shall finish what we have begun. 

107 



A YOUNG PAN'S PRAYER 

For the spell we cast 

Shall prevail at last, — 

When fault is forgotten and failure past, — 

Prevail and restore 

To earth once more 

The lost enchantment, the wonder-lore. 

And I must attain 

To the road again. 

With the wandering dust and the wandering 

rain, — 
A sojourner too 
My way pursue. 
Who am spirit and substance, even as you. 

Then give me the slow 

Large will to grow, 

As your fellows down by the brookside grow. 

Ah, blow, and breed 

In my manhood's need 

The long sweet patience of flower and seed I 

108 



A YOUNG PAN'S PRAYER 

O pipes of Pan, 
Make me a man, 
As only your earthly music can ; 
And create in me 
From your melody 

The strength of the hills and the strength of 
the sea ! 



109 



THE TIDINGS TO OLAF. 

This is a question arose in the Norseland long ago^ 
About the time of Tule^ the season of joy and snow. 
To-morrow,, our Christmas Day,, can you answer 

straight and true,, 
After these thousand years,, when the question comes 

to you ? 

Olaf sat on his throne, and the priest of Thor 

stood by ; 
And the King's eyes were grey as the December 

sky. 

" Whom shall we serve, O King — the god 

of thy fathers, Thor, 
Who made us lords of the sea, and gave us our 

land in war, 



no 



THE TIDINGS TO OLAF 

" Who follows our battle flag over the barren 

brine, 
Who braces the bursting heart when the rowers 

bend in line, 

" Who hath made us the fear of the world and 

the envy of the earth. 
Whose splendour sustains us in death, who hath 

given us plenty for dearth, 

" Or this poor, thought-ridden Jew, an outcast 

whose head was priced 
At thirty pieces of silver, this friendless anarchist, 

Christ ? 

" Is not thine empire spread over the Western 

Isles ? 
Are not thy people sown wherever the sun-path 

smiles ? 



Ill 



THE TIDINGS TO OLAF 

" Do there not come to thee iron and gems 

and corn ? 
Does not thy glory blaze wherever our trade 

is borne ? 

" Over the red sea-rim thy galleys go down 

with the sun ; 
Beyond the gates of the storm thy written 

mandates run. 

" Behold, new lands arise to the lift of thy dar- 
ing prows, 

And health and riches and joy prosper thy fir- 
built house. 

" Is there lack to thee of aught the strength of 

thy folk can give, 
When the will and the longing come to stretch 

out thy hand and live ? 



12 



THE TIDINGS TO OLAF 

" Honey and fruit and wine, are they not piled 

on the board ? 
Do not a hundred tribes pay tribute to our 

Lord ? 

" Olaf, beloved of the gods ! Is there an out- 
land tongue, 

Is there an isle of the sea where thy praise has 
not been sung ? 

"Scarlet and silk and gold gleam on thy breast 

and brow. 
Had the kings of the earth of old such honour 

and freedom as thou ? 

" Might and dominion and power and majesty, 

are they not thine ? 
Will the seed of warrior kings dishonour the 

war-god's shrine ? 



"3 



THE TIDINGS TO OLAF 

" O King, do I speak this day in thy name, or 

forevermore 
Let perish the ancient creed ? By thy grace, 

is it Christ or Thor ? " 

Olafsat on his throne. And the Priest of Thor 

gave place 
To a pale dark monk. All eyes were bent on 

the stranger's face. 

" O King, how shall I speak and answer this 

wisdom of eld ? 
Yet the new trees of the forest spring up where 

the old are felled. 

'■^ When the sombre and ancient firs are laid 

in the dust, in your North, 
The tender young green of the birch and the 

delicate aspen put forth. 



114 



THE TIDINGS TO OLAF 

" Is the land left naked and bare, because the 

brush-fires have run ? 
Ye have seen the soft carpet of fern spread 

down where the blackening was done. 

" With beauty God covers the ground, no acre 

too poor to befriend, 
That thou and I and all men may perceive and 

comprehend. 

" He carries the sea in His hand, He lights the 

stars in the sky. 
And whispers over thy soul as the shadows 

move on the rye. 

" The King has his kingly state, but his heart is 

the heart of man, 
Swept over by clouds of grief, then sunlit with 

joy for a span. 



"5 



THE TIDINGS TO OI. AF 

" And every living spirit that is clothed with 

flesh and bone 
Is just so much of God's being, His presence 

revealed and known. 

"We are part of God's breath, as the gust, 
whereby thy hearth-fire is fanned, 

Is part of the wild north-wind that rolls the 
breakers to land. 

" We are a part of His life, as the waves are a 

part of the sea, 
A moment uplift in the sun, then merged in 

eternity. 

"What is it, O man and King, that stretches 

between us twain, 
Like the living tides that gird the islands of the 

main? 



ii6 



THE TIDINGS TO OLAF 

" What lifts thy name, Olaf, aloft on the shout 

of thy folk in war ? 
What keeps it warm by the hearth ? Is it the 

favour of Thor ? 

'' No ! 'Tis the love of thy people, the great 

common love of thy kind, 
The thing that is old as the sun and stronger 

than the wind. 

" And, Olaf, all these things, these goods 

which thy priest proclaims, 
That make thee a lord among men, and give 

thee a name above names, 

" Are gifts of the spirit of love. Take away 

love, and thy throne 
Melts like a word on the air ; thou art a name 

unknown. 



"7 



THE TIDINGS TO OLAF 

" Is the King heavy at heart, and no man can 
tell him why ; 

What does his glory avail to put the heavi- 
ness by ? 

" But like any poor nameless man among men, 

the mighty King 
Is heartened among his folk by the simple love 

they bring. 

" Is the King weary in mind, and none can 

lighten his mood ; 
What cheers him to power anew but thought 

of his people's good ? 

" To love, to know, and to do ! So we grow 

perfect apace, 
The human made more divine, as the old to 

the new gives place. 



ii8 



THE TIDINGS TO OLAF 

"But who will show us the way, — be lantern 

and staff and girth ? 
Where is the Light of the World and the 

Sweetness of the Earth ? 

" The King has a thousand men, yet one more 

brave than the rest ; 
The King has a hundred bards, yet one the 

wisest and best ; 

"The King has a score of friends, yet one most 

accounted of. 
And now, if these three were one, in courage, 

in wisdom and love, 

" There were the matchless friend, whose cause 

should enlist all lands. 
Gentle, intrepid, and true. And there, O King, 

Christ stands. 



119 



THE TIDINGS TO OLAF 

" Freedom and knowledge and joy, not mine 

nor any man's, 
But open to all the earth without proscription 

or bans, 

"Where is the bringer of these? His hand is 

upon thy door. 
And He who knocks, O King, is a greater God 

than Thor. 

" Olaf, 'tis Yule in the world ; the old creeds 

groan and fall. 
The ice of doubt at their heart, the snows of 

fear over all. 

" But now, even now, O friends, deep down in 

the kindly earth, 
Are not the marvellous seeds awaiting the hour 

of birth ? 



X20 



THE TIDINGS TO OLAF 

" Even now in the sunlit places, do not the 
saplings prepare 

To unfold their new growth to the light, un- 
sheathe their rich buds on the air ? 

" And so, from the dark, sweet mould of the 

human heart will arise. 
To enmorning the world with light and this 

life emparadise, 

*' The deathless, young glory of love. And 

valley and hill and plain 
And fields and cities of men, they shall not 

sorrow again. 

"For there shall be freedom and peace and 

beauty in that far spring. 
And folk shall go forth without fear, and be 

glad at their work and sing. 



121 



THE TIDINGS TO OLAF 

" And men will hallow this day with His name 

who died on the tree, 
For the cause of eternal love, in the service of 

liberty. 

" O King, shall the feet of Truth come in 

through thy open door. 
Or alone out of all the world be debarred ? Is 

it Christ or Thor ? " 

The King sat on his throne, and the two priests 

stood by. 
And OlaPs eyes grew mild as a blue April sky. 

Thus were the tidings to Olaf brought in the early 

days^ 
To he a lamp in his house^ and a sign-post in the 

ways. 
And you, O men and women^ does it concern you at 

all. 
That Truth still cries at the cross-roads, and you 

do not heed his call P 

122 



THE PRAYER IN THE ROSE 
GARDEN. 

Lord of this rose garden, 
At the end of May, 
Where thy guests are bidden 
To tarry for a day. 

Through the sweet white falling 
Of the tender rain. 
With thy roses theeward 
Lift this dust again. 

Make the heart within me 
That crumbles to obey, 
Perceive and know thy secret 
Desire from day to day ; 



123 



THE PRAYER IN THE ROSE GARDEN 

Even as thy roses, 
Knowing where they stand 
Before the wind, thy presence, 
Tremble at thy hand. 

Make me, Lord, for beauty, 
Only this I pray. 
Like my brother roses, 
Growing day by day. 

Body, mind and spirit. 
As thy voice may urge 
From the wondrous twilight 
At the garden's verge. 

Till I be as they be. 
Fair, then blown away. 
With a name like attar. 
Remembered for a day. 

124 



Copyright. 190 1, by 
The Ess Es£ Publishing Company (Incorporated) 

Copyright, 1902, by 
AiNSLEE Magazine Company 

Copyright, 1902, by 
The Century Company 

Copyright, 1899, 1900, by 
Charles Scribner's Sons 

Copyright, 1900, by 
Harper and Brothers 

Copyright, 1903, by 
L. C. Page & Company (Incorporated) 



Published, May, 1903 



TO THE 

MEMORY OF MY FRIEND 

Out of doors are budding trees, calling birds, and opening 

flowers, 
Purple rainy distances, fragrant winds and lengthening 

hours. 

Only in the loving heart, with its unforgetting mind, 
There is grief for seasons gone and the friend it cannot find. 

For upon this lovely earth mortal sorrow still must bide, 
And remembrance still must lurk like a pang in beauty^ s 
side. 

Ah, one wistful heartache now April with her joy m.ust 

bring, 
And the want of you return always with returning spring! 

New York, April, igoj. 



CONTENTS 

Page 

** Lord of My Heart's Elation" ... i 

The Green Book of the Bards .... 3 

First Croak 9 

A Supplication 15 

April Weather 16 

Spring Magic 20 

The Enchantress 23 

The Madness of Ishtar 25 

A Creature Catechism 32 

Sursum Corda 40 

The Word in the Beginning 49 

From an Old Ritual 68 

Fellow Travellers 70 

The Field by the Sea 71 

The Dancers of the Field 74 

The Breath of the Reed fd 

Poppies 80 



CONTENTS 



Page 

Compensation 83 

The Spell 88 

A Forest Shrine 90 

Among the Aspens 95 

The Green Dancers 105 

The Wind at the Door iio 

At the Yellow of the Leaf 114 

The Silent Wayfellow 119 

Pictor Ignotus 125 

Ephemeron 13*^ 

The Heretic 133 

After School I37 



"LORD OF MY HEART'S 
ELATION." 

Lord of my heart's elation, 
Spirit of things unseen, 
Be thou my aspiration 
Consuming and serene ! 

Bear up, bear out, bear onward 
This mortal soul alone, 
To selfhood or oblivion. 
Incredibly thine own, — 

As the foamheads are loosened 
And blown along the sea. 
Or sink and merge forever 
In that whicn bids them be. 



**LORD OF MY HEARt's ELATIOn" 



I, too, must climb in wonder, 
Uplift at thy command, — 
Be one with my frail fellows 
Beneath wind's strong hand, 

A fleet and shadowy column 
Of dust or mountain rain, 
To walk the earth a moment 
And be dissolved again. 

Be thou my exaltation 
Or fortitude of mien. 
Lord of the world's elation 
Thou breath of things unseen 



THE GREEN BOOK OF THE 
BARDS. 

There is a book not written 
By any human hand, 
The prophets all have studied, 
The priests have always banned. 

I read it every morning, 
I ponder it by night ; 
And Death shall overtake me 
Trimming my humble light. 

He'll say, as did my father 
When I was young and small, 
" My son, no time for reading ! 
The night awaits us all." 



THE GREEN BOOK OF THE BARDS 

He'll smile, as did my father 
When I was small and young, 
That I should be so eager 
Over an unknown tongue. 

Then I would leave my volume 
And willingly obey, — 
Get me a little slumber 
Against another day. 

Content that he who taught me 
Should bid me sleep awhile, 
I would expect the morning 
To bring his courtly smile ; 

New verses to decipher. 
New chapters to explore. 
While loveliness and wisdom 
Grew ever more and more. 



THE GREEN BOOK OF THE BARDS 

For who could ever tire 

Of that wild legendry, 

The folk-lore of the mountains, 

The drama of the sea ? 

I pore for days together 
Over some lost refrain, — 
The epic of the thunder. 
The lyric of the rain. 

This was the creed and canon 
Of Whitman and Thoreau, 
And all the free believers 
Who worshipped long ago. 

Here Amiel in sadness. 
And Burns in pure delight. 
Sought for the hidden import 
Of man's eternal plight. 



THE GREEN BOOK OF THE BARDS 

No Xenophon nor Caesar 
This master had for guide, 
Yet here are well recorded 
The marches of the tide. 

Here are the marks of greatness 
Accomplished without noise, 
The Elizabethan vigour. 
And the Landorian poise ; 

The sweet Chaucerian temper, 
Smiling at all defeats ; 
The gusty moods of Shelley, 
The autumn calms of Keats. 

Here were derived the gospels 
Of Emerson and John ; 
'Twas with this revelation 
The face of Moses shone. 



6 



THE GREEN BOOK OF THE BARDS 

Here Blake and Job and Omar 
The author's meaning traced ; 
Here Virgil got his sweetness, 
And Arnold his unhaste. 

Here Horace learned to question, 
And Browning to reply, 
When Soul stood up on trial 
For her mortality. 

And all these lovely spirits 
Who read in the great book, 
Then went away in silence 
With their illumined look, 

Left comment, as time furnished 
A margin for their skill, — 
Their guesses at the secret 
Whose gist eludes us still. 



THE GREEN BOOK OF THE BARDS 

And Still in that green volume, 
With ardour and with youth 
Undaunted, my companions 
Are searching for the truth. 

One page, entitled Grand Pre, 
Has the idyllic air 
That Bion might have envied : 
I set a foot-note there. 



FIRST CROAKo 

Northward, crow, 
Croak and fly ! 
Tell her I 
Long to go, — • 

Only am 
Satisfied 

Where the wide 
Maples flame, 

Over those 

Hills of fir, 
Flooding her 
Morning snows. 



FIRST CROAK 



Thou shalt see 
Break and sing 
Days of spring, 
Dawning free. 

Northward, crow, 
Croak and fly, — 
Strive, or die 
Striving so ! 

Darker hearts. 
We, than some 
Who shall come 
When spring starts^ 

Well I see, 
You and I 
By and by 
Shall get freco 

lO 



FIRST CROAK 



Only now, 
Beat away 
As we may 
Best know how ! 

Never soar 
We, nor float ; 
But one note. 
And no more. 

Northward, crow, 
Croak and fly ! 
Would that I 
Too might go ! 

Lark or thrush 
Someday, you 
Up the blue 
Cleave the hush. 

II 



FIRST CROAK 



O the joy 
Then you feel, 
Who shall steal 
Or destroy ? 

Have not I 
Known how good, 
Field and wood. 
Stream and sky ? — 

Longed to free 
Soul in flight. 
Night by night. 
Tree to tree ? 

Northward, crow, 
Croak and fly 
You and I, — 
Striving, go. 

12 



FIRST CROAK 



Still though fail 
Singing, keep 
Croaking deep 
Strong and hale ! 

Flying straight, 
Soon we go 
Where the snow 
Tarries lat^i 

Yet the spring 
Is — how sweet ! 
Hark that beat ; 
Goldenwing ! 

Good for all 
Faint of heart. 
What a start 
In his call ! 



FIRST CROAK 



Northward, crow. 
Croak and fly, 
Though the sky 
Thunder No ! 



A SUPPLICATION, 

O April, angel of our mortal joy, 
Consoler of our human griefs and fears, 
Bringer of sunshine to this old grey earth, 
Hear once again the prayer of thy lone child, 
Return, return ! 

Mother of solace in the soft spring rain. 
Restorer of sane health to wounded souls. 
Ah, tarry not thy coming to our doors. 
But soon with twilight and the robin's voice. 
Return. 

Behold, across the borders of the world. 
We wait thy reappearance with the flowers. 
Disconsolate, dispirited, forlorn. 
Our only childish and perpetual prayer, 
" Return, return ! '* 
15 



APRIL WEATHER. 

Soon, ah, soon the April weather 
With the sunshine at the door. 
And the mellow melting rain-wind 
Sweeping from the South once more. 

Soon the rosy maples budding, 
And the willows putting forth, 
Misty crimson and soft yellow 
In the valleys of the North. 

Soon the hazy purple distance. 
Where the cabined heart takes wing, 
Eager for the old migration 
In the magic of the spring. 



i6 



APRIL WEATHER 



Soon, ah, soon the budding windflowers 
Through the forest white and frail. 
And the odorous wild cherry 
Gleaming in her ghostly veil. 

Soon about the waking uplands 
The hepaticas in blue, — 
Children of the first warm sunlight 
In their sober Quaker hue, — 

All our shining little sisters 
Of the forest and the field. 
Lifting up their quiet faces 
With the secret half revealed. 

Soon across the folding twilight 
Of the round earth hushed to hear, 
The first robin at his vespers 
Calling far, serene and clear. 



17 



APRIL WEATHER 



Soon the waking and the summons, 
Starting sap in bole and blade, 
And the bubbling, marshy whisper 
Seeping up through bog and glade. 

Soon the frogs in silver chorus 

Through the night, from marsh and swale, 

Blowing in their tiny oboes 

All the joy that shall not fail, — 

Passing up the old earth rapture 
By a thousand streams and rills. 
From the red Virginian valleys 
To the blue Canadian hills. 

Soon, ah, soon the splendid impulse. 
Nomad longing, vagrant whim. 
When a man's false angels vanish 
And the truth comes back to him. 



i8 



APRIL WEATHER 



Soon the majesty, the vision, 
And the old unfaltering dream. 
Faith to follow, strength to stablish, 
Will to venture and to seem ; 

All the radiance, the glamour. 
The expectancy and poise. 
Of this ancient life renewing 
Its temerities and joys. 

Soon the immemorial magic 
Of the young Aprilian moon. 
And the wonder of thy friendship 
In the twilight — soon, ah, soon ! 



i9 



SPRING MAGIC. 

This morning soft and brooding 
In the warm April rain, 
The doors of sense are opened 
To set me free again. 

I pass into the colour 
And fragrance of the flowers, 
And melt with every bird-cry 
To haunt the mist-blue showersc 

I thrill in crimson quince-buds 
To raptures without name ; 
And in the yellow tulips 
Burn with a pure still flame. 



90 



SPRING MAGIC 



I blend with the soft shadows 
Of the young maple leaves, 
And mingle in the rain-drops 
That shine along the eaves. 

I lapse among the grasses 
That green the river's brink ; 
And with the shy wood creatures 
Go down at need to drink. 

I fade in silver music, 
Whose fine unnumbered notes 
The frogs and rainy fifers 
Blow from their reedy throats. 

No glory is too splendid 
To house this soul of mine, 
No tenement too lowly 
To serve it for a shrine. 



21 



SPRING MAGIC 



How is it we inherit 
This marvel of new birth, 
Sharing the ancient wonder 
And miracle of earth ? 

What wisdom, what enchantment, 
What magic of Green Fire, 
Could make the dust and water 
Obedient to desire ? 

Keep thou, by some large instinct, 
Unwasted, fair, and whole. 
The innocence of nature. 
The ardour of the soul ; 

And through the house of being 
Thou art at liberty 
To pass, enjoy, and linger, 
Inviolate and free. 



22 



THE ENCHANTRESS. 

Have you not seen a witch to-day 
Go dancing through the misty woods, 
Her mad young beauty hid beneath 
A tattered gown of crimson buds ? 

She gHnted through the alder swamp, 
And loitered by the willow stream. 
Then vanished down the wood-road dim. 
With bare brown throat and eyes a-dream. 

The wild white cherry is her flower. 
Her bird the flame-bright oriole ; 
She comes with freedom and with peace, 
And glad temerities of soul. 



23 



THE ENCHANTRESS 



Her lover is the great Blue Ghost, 
Who broods upon the world at noon, 
And wooes her wonder to his will 
At setting of the frail new moon. 



24 



THE MADNESS OF ISHTAR. 

Vermilion and ashen and azure, 
Pigment of leaf and wing, 
What will the sorceress Ishtar 
Make out of colour and spring ? 

Of old was she not Aphrodite, 
She who is April still, 
Mistress of longing and beauty. 
The sea, and the Hollow Hill ? 

Ashtoreth, Tanis, Astarte — 
A thousand names she has borne, 
Since the first new moon's white magic 
Was laid on a world forlorn. 



25 



THE MADNESS OF ISHTAR 

Odour of tulip and cherry, 
Scent of the apple blow, 
Tang of the wild arbutus — 
These to her crucible go. 

Honey of lilac and willow. 
The spoil of the plundering bees. 
Savour of sap from the maples — 
What will she do with these ? 

Oboe and flute in the forest. 
And pipe in the marshy ground. 
And the upland call of the flicker — 
What will she make of sound ? 

Start of the green in the meadow, 
Push of the seed in the mould. 
Burst of the bud into blossom — 
What will her cunning unfold ? 



26 



THE MADNESS OF ISHTAR 

The waning belt of Orion, 
The crescent zone of the moon — 
What is the mystic transport 
We shall see accomplished soon ? 

The sun and the rain and the South wind, 
With all the treasure they bring — 
What will the sorceress Ishtar 
Make from the substance of spring ? 

She will gather the blue and the scarlet. 
The yellow and crimson dye, 
And weave them into a garment 
Of magical texture and ply. 

And whoso shall wear that habit 
And favour of the earth. 
He shall be lord of his spirit, 
The creatures shall know his worth. 



27 



THE MADNESS OF ISHTAR 

She will gather the broken music, 
Fitting it chord by chord, 
Till the hearer shall learn the meaning, 
As a text that has been restored. 

She will gather the fragrance of lilacs, 
The scent of the cherry flower. 
And he who perceives it shall wonder. 
And know, and remember the hour. 

She will gather the moonlight and starshine. 
And breathe on them with desire. 
And they shall be changed on the moment 
To the marvel of earth's green fire, — 

The ardour that kindles and blights not, 
Consumes and does not destroy. 
Renewing the world with wonder. 
And the hearts of men with joy. 



28 



THE MADNESS OF I^HTAR 

For this is the purpose of Ishtar, 
In her great lone house of the sky, 
Beholding the work of her hands 
As it shall be by and by : 

Out of the passion and splendour, 
Faith, failure and daring, to bring 
The illumined dream of the spirit 
To perfection in some far spring. 

Therefore, shall we not obey her, — 
Awake and be glad and aspire, — 
Wise with the ancient knowledge. 
Touched with the earthly fire ? 

In the spell of the wild enchantment 
The shy wood creatures know, 
Must we not also with Ishtar 
Unhindered arise and go ? 



29 



THE MADNESS OF ISHTAR 

Hearing the call and the summons, 
Heeding the hint and the sign, 
Rapt in the flush and the vision. 
Shall we demur or repine ? 

Dare you deny one impulse. 
Dare I one joy suppress ? 
Knowing the might and dominion. 
The lure and the loveliness. 

Delirium, glamour, bewitchment. 
Bidding earth blossom and sing, 
Shall we falter or fail to follow 
The voice of our mother in spring ? 

For Love shall be clothed with beauty. 
And walk through the world again. 
Hearing the haunted cadence 
Of an immortal strain j 



30 



THE MADNESS OF ISHTAR 

Caring not whence he wandered, 
Fearing not whither he goes, 
Great with the fair new freedom 
That every earth-child knows ; 

Impetuous as the wood-wind, 
Ingenuous as a flower. 
Glad with the fulness of being. 
Born of the perfect hour j 

Counting not cost nor issue. 
Weighing not end and aim, 
Sprung from the clay-built cabin 
To powers that have no name. 

And with all his soul and body 
He shall only seek one thing ; 
For that is the madness of Ishtar, 
Which comes upon earth in spring. 



31 



A CREATURE CATECHISM. 

I. 

Soul^ what art thou in the tribes of the sea ? 

Lord, said a flying fish^ 
Below the foundations of storm 
We feel the primal wish 
Of the earth take form. 

Through the dim green water-fire 
We see the red sun loom, 
And the quake of a new desire 
Takes hold on us down in the gloom. 

No more can the filmy drift 
Nor drafty currents buoy 
Our whim to its bent, nor lift 
Our heart to the height of its joy. 

32 



A CREATURE CATECHISM 

When sheering down to the Line 
Come polar tides from the North, 
Thy silver folk of the brine 
Must glimmer and forth. 

Down in the crumbling mill 
Grinding eternally, 
We are the type of thy will 
To the tribes of the sea. 



II. 

Soul^ what art thou in the tribes of the air ? 

Lord, said a butterfly^ 
Out of a creeping thing, 
For days in the dust put by, 
The spread of a wing 



33 



A CREATURE CATECHISM 

Emerges with pulvll of gold 
On a tissue of green and blue, 
And there is thy purpose of old 
Unspoiled and fashioned anew. 

Ephemera, ravellings of sky 
And shreds of the Northern light, 
We age in a heart-beat and die 
Under the eaves of night. 

What if the small breath quail, 
Or cease at a touch of the frost ? 
Not a tremor of joy shall fail, 
Nor a pulse be lost. 

This fluttering life, never still, 
Survives to oblivion's despair. 
We are the type of thy will 
To the tribes of the air. 



34 



A CREATURE CATECHISM 



III. 

Soul^ what art thou in the tribes of the field? 

Lord, said a maple seed^ 

Though well we are wrapped and bound, 

We are the first to give heed, 

When thy bugles give sound. 

We banner thy House of the Hills 
With green and vermilion and gold. 
When the floor of April thrills 
With the myriad stir of the mould. 

And her hosts for migration prepare. 
We too have the veined twin-wings. 
Vans for the journey of air. 
With the urge of a thousand springs 



35 



A CREATURE CATECHISM 

Pent for a germ in our side, 
We perish of joy, being dumb, 
That our race may be and abide 
For aeons to come. 

When rivulet answers to rill 
In snow-blue valleys unsealed. 
We are the type of thy will 
To the tribes of the field. 



IV. 

Soul^ what art thou in the tribes of the ground ? 

Lord, when the time is ripe, 
Said a frog through the quiet rain^ 
We take up the silver pipe 
For the pageant again. 

36 



A CREATURE CATECHISM 

When the melting wind of the South 
Is over meadow and pond, 
We draw the breath of thy mouth, 
Reviving the ancient bond. 

Then must we fife and declare 
The unquenchable joy of earth, — 
Testify hearts still dare. 
Signalise beauty's worth. 

Then must we rouse and blow 
On the magic reed once more. 
Till the glad earth-children know 
Not a thing to deplore. 

When rises the marshy trill 

To the soft spring night's profound, 

We are the type of thy will 

To the tribes of the ground. 



37 



A CREATURE CATECHISM 



V. 

Soul., what art thou in the tribes of the earth ? 

Lord, said an artist horn., 
We leave the city behind 
For the hills of open morn, 
For fear of our kind. 

Our brother they nailed to a tree 
For sedition ; they bully and curse 
All those whom love makes free. 
Yet the very winds disperse 

Rapture of birds and brooks. 
Colours of sea and cloud, — 
Beauty not learned of books, 
Truth that is never loud. 



J8 



A CREATURE CATECHISM 

We model our joy into clay, 
Or help it with line and hue, 
Or hark for its breath in stray 
Wild chords and new. 

For to-morrow can only fulfil 
Dreams which to-day have birth ; 
We are the type of thy will 
To the tribes of the earth. 



39 



SURSUM CORD A. 

I. 

The wind on the sea^ 

The breath of God over the face of the deepy 
Whispers a word 

The tribes of his watery dominion rejoice having 
heard. 

To-day through the vaultless chambers 
Of the sea, below the range 
Of light's great beam to fathom, 
Soundless, unsearched of change. 

There passed more vague than a shadow 

Which is, then is no more. 

The aura and draft of being. 

Like a breath through an open door. 



40 



SURSUM CORDA 



The myriad fins are moving, 
The marvellous flanges play ; 
Herring and shad and menhaden^ 
They stir and awake and away. 

Ungava, Penobscot, Potomac, 
Key Largo and Fundy side. 
The droves of the frail sea people 
Are arun in the vernal tide. 

The old sea hunger to herd them. 
The old spring fever to drive. 
Within them the thrust of an impulse 
To wander and joy and thrive ; 

Below them the lift of the sea-kale, 
Before them the fate that shall be ; 
As it was when the first white summer 
Drew the fog from the face of the sea. 



41 



SURSUM CORDA 



II. 

The wind on the hills^ 

The breath of God over the tops of the trees^ 
TVhispers a word 

The tribes of his airy dominion rejoice having 
heard. 

Last night we saw the curtain 
Of the red aurora wave, 
Through the ungirdered heaven 
Built without joist or trave, 

Fleeting from silence to silence, 
As a mirror is stained by a breath, — 
The only sign from the Titan 
Sleeping in frosty death. 



42 



SURSUM CORDA 



Yet over the world this morning 
The old wise trick has been done ; 
Our legions of rovers and singers, 
Arrived and saluting the sun. 

The myriad wings atremble, 
The marvellous throats astrain, 
Come the airy migrant people 
In the wake of the purple rain. 

One joy that needs no bidding, 
One will that does not quail ; 
The whitethroat up from the barren. 
The starling down in the swale ; 

The honk and clamour of wild geese. 
The call of the goldenwing ; 
From valley to lonely valley. 
The long exultation of spring. 



43 



SURSUM CORDA 



III. 

The wind on the fields^ 

The breath of God over the face of the ground^ 
TVhispers a word 

The tribes of his leafy dominion rejoice having 
heard. 

Crimson of Indian willow, 
Orange of maple plume, 
As a web of endless pattern 
Falls from a soundless loom, 

The wide green marvel of summer 
Breaks from catkin and sheath, 
So silently only a spirit 
Could guess at the spirit beneath. 



44 



SURSUM CORDA 



For these are the moveless people, 
Who only abide and endure, 
Yet no less feel their heart beat 
To the lift of the wild spring lure. 

These are the keepers of silence, 
Who only adore and are dumb. 
With faith's own look of expecting 
The bidding they know will come. 

The revel of leaves is beginning. 
The riot of sap is astir ; 
Dogwood and peach and magnolia 
Have errands they will not defer. 

In the long sweet breath of the rainwind. 
In the warm, sweet hours of sun. 
They arise at the Sursum corda^ 
A thousand uplifted as one. 



45 



SURSUM CORDA 



IV. 

The wind in the street^ 

The breath of God over the roofs of the town^ 
PVhispers a word 

The tribes of the Wandering Shadow rejoice having 
heard. 

The tribes of the Wandering Shadow ! 
Ah, gypsying spirit of man, 
What tent hast thou, what solace, 
Since the nomad life began ? 

Forever, wherever the springtime 

Halts by the open door. 

The heart-sick are healed in the sunshine, 

The sorry are sad no more. 



46 



SURSUM CORDA 



Something brighter than morning 
Washes the windowpane ; 
Something wiser than knowledge 
Sits by the hearth again. 

Within him the sweet disquiet, 
Before him the old dismay, 
When the hand of Beauty beckons 
The wayfarer must away. 

" A brother to him who needs me, 
A son to her who needs; 
Modest and free and gentle ; " 
This is his creed of creeds. 

To-night when the belt of Orion 
Hangs in the linden bough, 
The girl will meet her lover 
Where the quince is crimson now. 



47 



SURSUM CORDA 



For the sun of a thousand winters 
Will stop his pendulous swing, 
Ere man be a misbeliever 
In the scarlet legend of spring. 



48 



THE WORD IN THE BE- 
GINNING. 

In principio erat verbutn. 
PRELUDE/ 

This is the sound of the Word 

From the waters of sleep, 

The rain-soft voice that was heard 

On the face of the deep, 

When the fog was drawn back like a veil, and 

the sentinel tides 
Were given their thresholds to keep. 

The South Wind said, " Come forth," 
And the West Wind said, " Go far ! " 

* Reprinted from Last Songs from Vagabondia with 'the 
courteous permission of Small, Maynard & Co. 



49 



THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING 

And the silvery sea-folk heard, 

Where their weed tents are, 

From the long slow lift of the blue through the 

Carib keys, 
To the thresh on Sable bar. 

This is the Word that went by. 

Over sun-land and swale. 

The long Aprilian cry, 

Clear, joyous, and hale, 

When the summons went forth to the wild shy 

broods of the air. 
To bid them once more to the trail. 

The South Wind said, " Come forth," 
And the West Wind said, " Be swift ! " 
The fluttering sky-folk heard, 
And the warm dark thrift 



50 



THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING 

Of the nomad blood revived, and they gathered 

for flight, 
By column and pair and drift. 

This is the sound of the Word 
From bud-sheath and blade, 
When the reeds and the grasses conferred, 
And a gold beam was laid 

At the taciturn doors of the forest, where tar- 
ried the sun, 
For a sign they should not be dismayed. 

The South Wind said, " Come forth," 

And the West Wind said, " Be glad ! " 

The abiding wood-folk heard. 

In their new green clad, 

Sanguine, mist-silver, and rose, while the sap in 

their veins 
Welled up as of old all unsad. 



THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING 

This is the Word that flew 

Over snow-marsh and glen, 

When the frost-bound slumberers knew, 

In tree-trunk and den. 

Their bidding had come, they questioned not 

whence nor why, — 
They reckoned not whither nor when. 

The South Wind said, " Come forth," 

And the West Wind said, "Be wise ! " 

The wintering ground-folk heard. 

Put the dark from their eyes. 

Put the sloth from sinew and thew, to wander 

and dare, — 
For ever the old surmise ! 

This is the Word that came 
To the spirit of Man, 



52 



THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING 

And shook his soul like a flame 

In the breath of a fan, 

Till it burned as a light in his eyes, as a colour 

that grew 
And prospered under the tan. 

The South Wind said, " Come forth," 

And the West Wind said, " Be free ! " 

Then he rose and put on the new garb. 

And knew he should be 

The master of knowledge and joy, though 

sprung from the tribes 
Of the earth and the air and the sea. 



53 



THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING 



I. 

THE WORD TO THE WATER PEOPLE. 

Who hath uttered the formless whisper, 
The rumour afloat on the tide, 
The need that speaks in the heart, 
The craving that will not bide ? 

For the word without shape is abroad. 
The vernal portent of change ; 
And from winter grounds, empty to-morrow, 
The fin-folk will gather and range. 

It runs in the purple currents, 
Swaying the idle weed ; 
It creeps by the walls of coral. 
Where the keels of the ebb recede ; 



54 



THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING 

It calls in the surf above us, 
In thunder of reef and key. 
And where the green day filters 
Through soundless furlongs of sea. 

It moves where the moving sea-fans 
Shadow the white sea-floor ; 
It stirs where the dredging sand-runs 
Furrow and trench and score. 

In channel and cave it finds us. 
In the curve of the Windward Isles, 
In the sway of the heaving currents. 
In the run of the long sea-miles. 

In the green Floridian shallows, 
By marshes hot and rank. 
And below the reach of soundings 
Off the Great Bahaman Bank. 



55 



THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING 

The tribes of the water people, 
Scarlet and yellow and blue, 
Are awake, for the old sea-magic 
Is on them to rove anew. 

They will ride in the great sea-rivers, 
And feed in the warm land streams. 
By cliffs where the gulls are nesting. 
By capes where the blue berg gleams. 

The fleet and shining thousands 
Will follow the trackless lead 
Of the bidding that rises in them. 
The old ancestral need. 

Will they mistrust or falter. 
Question or turn or veer ? 
Will they put off their harness of colour. 
Or their gaudy hues ungear ? 



56 



THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING 

Eager, unwasted, undaunted, 
They go and they go. They have heard 
The lift of the faint strong summons, 
The lure of the watery word. 



II. 

THE WORD TO THE PEOPLE OF THE AIR. 

Who hath uttered the wondrous hearsay, 
The rumour abroad on the air. 
The tribal journey summons, 
The signal to flock and fare ? 

Who hath talked to the shy bird-people. 
And counselled the feathered breast 
To follow the sagging rain-wind 
Over the purple crest ? 



57 



THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING 

O tribes of the silver whistle, 
And folk of the azure wing, 
Who hath revived in a night 
The magic tradition of spring ? 

By shores of the low Gulf Islands, 
Where the steaming lands emerge. 
By reefs of the Dry Tortugas, 
Drenched by the crumbling surge, 

From the hot and drowsy shallows 

Of the silent Everglades, 

From creamy coral beaches 

In the breath of the Northeast Trades, 

We have heard, without note or warble, 
Quaver or chirp or trill, 
The far and soft-blown tidings 
Sumrtvon from hill to hill. 



58 



THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING 

Up from the blue horizon, 
By canyon and ridge and plain, 
Where ride in misty columns 
The spearmen of the rain. 

The broods of the light air-people 
Will bevy and team and throng. 
To fill the April valleys 
With gurgle and lisp and song. 

They know where the new green leafage 
Spreads like the sweep of day, 
Over the low Laurentians 
And up through the Kootenay. 

They know where the nests are waiting. 
And the icy ponds are thawed. 
For the stir and the sight are on them. 
Moving the legions abroad. 



59 



THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING 

The oriole under Monadnoc 
Will cast his golden spells ; 
In deep Ontarian meadows 
The reed-bird will loose his bells ; 

The thrushes will flute over Grand Pre, 
The quail by the Manomet shore, 
The wild drake feed in the bogan, 
The swallow come back to the door. 

Tanager, robin, and sparrow. 
Grosbeak, warbler and wren. 
The children of gladness gather 
In clearing and grove and fen 

For the bright primeval summer, 
In their slumbering heart having heard 
A strain of the great Resurgam^ 
A call of the airy word. 



60 



THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING 



III. 

THE WORD TO PEOPLE OF THE WOOD 

Who hath uttered the leafy whisper, 
The rumour that stirs the bough, 
That mounts with the sap, and flushes 
The buds with beauty now ? 

None hath report of the message, 
No single authentic word ; 
Yet the tribes of the wood are stirring 
At the tidings they have heard. 

To-day will the pear-trees blossom 
And the yellow jasmine vines. 
Where the soft Gulf winds are surfing 
In the dreamy Georgian pines. 



6i 



THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING 

To-morrow the peach and the redbud 
Will join in the woodland pomp, 
Floating their crimson banners 
By smoky ridge and swamp ; 

And the gleaming white magnolias, 
In many a city square, 
Will unfold in the heavenly leisure 
Of the kindly Southern air. 

Next day over grey New England 
The magic of spring will go, 
Touching her marshes with yellow, 
Her hills with a purple glow. 

Then the maple buds will break 
In an orange mist once more. 
Through lone Canadian valleys. 
From Baranov to Bras d'Or. 



62 



THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING 

And where the snowdrifts vanish 
From the floor of their piney home, 
Hepatica and arbutus, 
The shy wood-children, will come. 

The elms on the meadow islands 
Will shadow the rustling sedge. 
The orchards reveal the glory 
Of earth by dike and ledge ; 

The birch will unsheathe her tassels, 
The willow her silver plume. 
When the green hosts encamp 
By lake and river and flume. 

For the tides of joy are running 
North with the sap and the sun. 
And the tribes of the wood are arrayed 
In their splendour one by one. 



63 



THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING 

Not one unprepared nor reluctant, 
With ardour unspent they have heard 
A note of the woodland music, 
A breath of the wilding word. 



IV. 
THE WORD TO THE PEOPLE OF THE GROUND. 

Who hath uttered the faint earth-whisper. 
The rumour that spreads over ground. 
The sign that is hardly a signal. 
The sense that is scarcely sound ? 

Yet listen, the earth is awake. 
The magic of April is here ; 
The all but unobserved signal 
Is answered from far and near. 



64 



THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING 

Go forth in the morning and listen, 
For the coming of life is good ; 
The lapsing of ice in the rivers, 
The lisping of snow in the wood. 

The murmur of streams in the mountains, 
The babble of brooks in the hills. 
And the sap of gladness running 
To waste from a thousand stills. 

Go forth in the noonday and listen ; 
A soft multitudinous stir 
Betrays the new life that is moving 
In the houses of oak and fir. 

A red squirrel chirps in the balsam ; 
A fox barks down in the clove ; 
The bear comes out of his tree-bole 
To sun himself, rummage and rove. 



65 



THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING 

In the depth of his wilderness fastness 
The beaver comes forth from his mound, 
And the tiny creatures awake 
From their long winter sleep under ground. 

Go forth in the twilight and listen 
To that music fine and thin, 
When the myriad marshy pipers 
Of the April night begin. 

Through reed-bed and swamp and shallow 
The heart of the earth grows bold, 
And the spheres in their golden singing 
Are answered on flutes of gold. 

One by one, down in the meadow. 
Or up by the river shore. 
The frail green throats are unstopped. 
And inflated with joy once more. 



66 



THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING 

O heart, canst thou hear and hearken, 
Yet never an answer bring, 
When thy brothers, the frogs in the valley, 
Go mad with the burden of spring ? 

So the old ardours of April 
Revive in her creatures to-day — 
The knowledge that does not falter, 
The longing that will not stay. 

And the love that abides. Undoubting, 
In the deeps of their ken they have heard 
The ancient unwritten decretal, 
The lift of the buoyant word. 



67 



FROM AN OLD RITUAL. 

O dwellers in the dust, arise, 
My little brothers of the field. 
And put the sleep out of your eyes ! 
Your death-doom is repealed. 

Lift all your golden faces now. 

You dandelions in the ground ! 

You quince and thorn and apple bough, 

Your foreheads are unbound. 

O dwellers in the frost, awake. 
My little brothers of the mould ! 
It is the time to forth and slake 
Your being as of old. 



68 



FROM AN OLD RITUAL 

You frogs and newts and creatures small 
In the pervading urge of spring, 
Who taught you in the dreary fall 
To guess so glad a thing ? 

From every swale your watery notes, 
Piercing the rainy cedar lands. 
Proclaim your tiny silver throats 
Are loosened of their bands. 

O dwellers in the desperate dark, 
My brothers of the mortal birth, 
Is there no whisper bids you mark 
The Easter of the earth ? 

Let the great flood of spring's return 
Float every fear away, and know 
We are all fellows of the fern 
And children of the snow. 



69 



FELLOW TRAVELLER S« 

Green are the buds of the snowball. 
And green are the little birds 
That come to fill my branches 
Full of their gentle words. 

What Is it, tiny brothers ? 
What are you trying to say 
Over and over and over. 
In your broken-hearted way ? 

Have you, too, darkling rumours 
In your sweet vagrancy, — 
News of a vast encounter 
Of storm and night and sea ? 



70 



^ 



THE FIELD BY THE SEA. 

On a grey day by the sea, 

I looked from the window and saw 

The beautiful companies of the daisies bow 

And toss in the gusty flaw. 

For the wind was in from sea ; 

The heavy scuds ran low ; 

And all the makers of holiday were abashed, 

Caught in the easterly blow. 

My heart, too, is a field, 
Peopled with shining forms, 
Beautiful as the companies of the grass, 
And herded by swift grey storms. 



71 



THE FIELD BY THE SEA 

A thousand shapes of joy, 

Sunlit and fair and wild, — 

All the bright dreams that make the heart of a 

man 
As the heart of a little child, — 

They dance to the rune of the world, 

The star-trodden ageless rune, 

Glad as the wind-blown multitudes of the grass, 

White as the daisies in June. 

But oveir them, ah, what storms, — 

In from the unknown sea. 

The uncharted and ever-sounding desolate main 

We have called Eternity ! 

They shudder and quake and are torn, 
As the stormy moods race by. 
And then in the teeth of remorse, the tempes- 
tuous lull. 
Once more the hardy cry : 

72 



THE FIELD BY THE SEA 

" Fear not, little folk of my heart, 
Nor let the great hope in you fail ! 
Being children of light, ye are made as the 

flowers of the grass. 
To endure and survive and prevail." 



73 



THE DANCERS OF THE 
FIELD. 

The wind went combing through the grass, 
The tall white daisies rocked and bowed j 
Such ecstasy as never was 
Possessed the shining multitude. 

They turned their faces to the sun, 
And danced the radiant morn away ; 
Of all his brave eye looked upon. 
His daughters of delight were they. 

And when the round and yellow moon. 
Like a pale petal of the dusk 
Blown loose above the sea-rim shone. 
They gave me no more need to ask 



74 



THE DANCERS OF THE FIELD 

How immortality is named ; 

For I remembered like a dream 

How ages since my spirit flamed 

To wear their guise and dance with them. 



75 



THE BREATH OF THE REED. 

/ heard the rushes in the twilight, 
I overheard them at the dusk of day. 

Make me thy priest, O Mother, 
And prophet of thy mood. 
With all the forest wonder 
Enraptured and imbued. 

Be mine but to interpret, 
Follow nor misemploy. 
The doubtful books of silence, 
The alphabet of joy. 

A pipe beneath thy fingers, 
Blown by thy lips in spring 
With the old madness, urging 
Shy foot and furtive wing. 



76 



THE BREATH OF THE REED 

A reed wherein the life-note 
Is fluted clear and high, 
Immortal and unmeasured, — 
No more than this am I. 

Delirious and plangent, 
I quiver to thy breath ; 
Thy fingers keep the notches 
From discord and from death. 

Unfaltering, unflagging. 
Comes the long, wild refrain, 
With ardours of the April 
In woodnotes of the rain. 

Be mine the merest inkling 
Of what the shore larks mean, 
And what the gulls are crying 
The wind whereon they lean. 



77 



THE BREATH OF THE REED 

Teach me to close the cadence 
Of one brown forest bird, 
Who opens so supremely, 
Then falters for thy word. 

One hermit thrush entrancing 
The solitude with sound, — 
Give me the golden gladness 
Of music so profound. 

So leisurely and orbic. 
Serene and undismayed, 
He runs the measure over, 
Perfection still delayed. 

No hurry nor annoyance ; 
Enough for him, to try 
The large few notes of prelude 
Which put completion by. 



78 



THE BREATH OF THE REED 

In ages long hereafter 

His heritor may learn 

What meant those pregnant pauses, 

And that unfinished turn. 

So one shall read thy world-runes 
To find them all one day 
Parts of a single motive, 
Scored in an ancient way. 

Till then, be mine to master 
One phrase in all that strain, — - 
The dominance of beauty. 
The transiency of pain, 

As swayed by tides of dreaming. 
Or bowed by gusts of thought, 
A reed within the river, 
I waver and am naught. 



79 



POPPIES. 

I who walk among the poppies 
In the burning hour of noon, 
Brother to their scarlet beauty, 
Feel their fervour and their swoon. 

In this little wayside garden. 
Under the sheer tent of blue, 
The dark kindred in forgetting, 
We are of one dust and dew. 

They, the summer-loving gipsies. 
Who frequent the Northern year ; 
From an older land than Egypt, 
I, too, but a nomad here. 



80 



POPPIES 

All day long the purple mountains, 
Those mysterious conjurors, 
Send, in silent premonition. 
Their still shadows by our doors. 

And we listen through the silence 
For a far-ofF sound, which seems 
Like the long reverberant echo 
Of a sea-shell blown in dreams. 

Is it the foreboded summons 
From the fabled Towers of Sleep, 
Bidding home the wandered children 
From the shore of the great deep ? 

All day long the sun-filled valley. 
Teeming with its ghostly thought, 
Glad in the mere lapse of being, 
Muses and is no*" distraught. 



bi 



POPPIES 

Then suffused with earth's contentment, 
The slow patience of the sun, 
As our heads are bowed to slumber 
In the shadows one by one, 

Sweet and passionless, the starlight 
Talks to us of things to be ; 
And we stir a little, shaken 
In the cool breath of the sea. 



82 



COMPENSATION. 

Not a word from the poplar-tree here on the 

hill ? 
Not a word from the stream in the bight of the 

clove ? 
Not a word from trail, clearing, or forest, to tell 
Their brother returned, how all winter they 

throve ? 

The old mountain ledges lay purple in June ; 
The green mountain walls arose hazy and dark ; 
I saw, heard, and loved all their beauty anew. 
But the soul in my body lay deaf, blind, and 
stark. 

" O, Mother Natura, whom most with full 

heart. 
Boy, stripling, and man, I have loved, dost 

thou leave 

83 



COMPENSATION 



Unanswered thy suppliant, troubled thy son, — 
To longing no respite, to doom no reprieve ? " 

Days, weeks, and months passed. Not a whis- 
per outbroke. 

Not a word to be caught, not a hint to be had, 

By the soul from the world there, all leisure and 
sun 

In perfection of summer, warm, waiting, and 
glad! 

The rosebreasted grosbeak his triumph pro- 
claimed ; 
The veery his wildest enchantment renewed ; 
And yet the old ardours not once were relit. 
Nor the heart as of old with wild magic imbued. 

Until on an evening unlooked for, " O Son," — 
Said the stream in the clove, spoke the wind on 
the hill ? 

84 



COMPENSATION 



Did a bird in his sleep find the lost ancient 

tongue, 
Universal and clear, with the shadowy thrill 

Mere language has never yet uttered ? — " O 

Son, 
Was thy heart cold with doubt, hesitation, 

dismay. 
Or hot with resentment, because, as it seemed, 
For awhile it must journey alone and away ? 

" All winter the torrent must sleep under snow ; 
All winter ash, poplar, and beech must endure ; 
All winter thy rapturous brothers, the birds. 
Must be silent. Are they, then, downcast or 
unsure ? 

" Nay, I but give them their seasons and times. 
Their moments of joy and their measure of 
rest i 

85 



COMPENSATION 



They keep the great rhythm of Ufe's come and 

go, 
The unwearied repose, the unhurrying zest. 

" With April I Hfted them, bade longings be ; 
With June I have plenished their heart to the 

brim. 
Will they question when over the world I have 

spread 
The scarlet of autumn with frost at the rim ? 

" Behold, while vexation was filling thy days, 
Thy deeper self, resting unmindful of harms, 
(With who knows what dreams of the splendid 

and true 
To be compassed at length !) lay asleep in my 

arms." 



86 



COMPENSATION 



The moonlight, mysterious, stately, and blue, 
Lay out on the great mountain wall, deep and 

still ; 
Far below the stream talked to itself in the 

clove ; 
The poplar-tree talked to itself on the hill. 



87 



THE SPELL. 

I hung a string of verses 
Against my cabin wall. 
What think you was the fortune 
They prayed might me befall ? 

Not fame nor health nor riches 
To tarry at my door, 
But that my vanished sweetheart 
Might visit me once more. 

Out of the moted day-dream 
Among the boding firs, 
They prayed she might remember 
The lover that was hers. 



THE SPELL 



They prayed the gates of silence 
A moment might unclose, 
The hour before the hill-crest 
Is flushed with solemn rose. 

prayers of mortal longing, 
What latch can ye undo ? 
What comrade once departed 
Ever returned for you ? 

All day with tranquil spirit 

1 kept my cabin door. 

In wonder at the beauties 
I had not seen before. 

I slept the dreamless slumber 
Of happiness again ; 
And when I woke, the thrushes 
Were singing in the rain. 



89 



A FOREST SHRINE. 

When you hear that mellow whistle 
In the beeches unespied, 
Footfall soft as down of thistle 
Turn aside ! 

That's our golden hermit singer 
In his leafy house and dim, 
Where God's utterances linger 
Yet for him. 

Built out of the firmamental 
Shafts of rain and beams of sun, 
Norse and Greek and Oriental 
Here are one. 



90 



A FOREST SHRINE 

Gothic oak and Latin laurel 
Here but sentry that wild gush 
Of wood-music with their aural 
Calm and hush. 

From those hanging airy arches 
Soars the azure roof of June, 
While among the feathery larches 
Hangs the moon. 

Through that unfrequented portal, 
When the twilight winds are low. 
Messengers of things immortal 
Come and go ; 

Whispers of a rumour hidden 
From slow reason, and revealed 
To the child of beauty bidden 
Far afield ; 



91 



A FOREST SHRINE 



Hints of rapture rare and splendid 
Furnished to the heart of man, 
As if, where mind's journey ended, 
Soul's began ; 

As if, when we sighed, " No farther ! 
Here our knowledge pales and thins ; " 
One had answered us, " Say rather, 
' Here begins.' " 

Argue me, " There is no gateway 
In this great wall we explore," 
Till there comes a bird-note ; straight- 
way. 
There's the door ! 

Enter here, thou beauty-lover. 
The domain where soul resides ; 
Ingress thought could not discover, 
Sense provides. 

92 



A FOREST SHRINE 

Ponder long and build at leisure, 
Architect ; yet canst thou rear 
Such a house for such a treasure 
As is here ? 

Leader of the woods and brasses, 
Master of the winds and strings. 
Hast thou music that surpasses 
His who sings ? 

You who lay cold proof's embargos 
On all wonder-working, tell 
Whence those fine reverberant largos 
Sink and swell ! 

Hark, that note of limpid glory 
Melts into the old earth-strain. 
And begins the woodland story 
Once again. 



93 



A FOREST SHRINE 

Hark that transport of contentment 
Blown into a mellow reed, 
Wild, yet tranquil — soul's preventment 
Of soul's need. 

There the master voluntaries 
On his pipe of greenish gold ; 
The wise theme whereon he varies, 
Never old. 

What do we with those who grieve them 
O'er the fevers of the mind ? 
Beauty's follower will leave them 
Far behind. 

As the wind among the rushes. 
Were it not enough to know 
The sure joyance of the thrushes ? 
Even so. 



94 



AMONG THE ASPENS. 
I. 

THE LOST WORD. 

The word of the wind to the aspens 
I listened all day to hear ; 
But over the hill or down in the swale 
He vanished as I drew near. 

I asked of the quaking shadows, 
I questioned the shy green bird ; 
But the falling river bore away 
The secret I would have heard. 

Then I turned to my forest cabin 

In a clove of the Kaaterskill ; 

And at dead of night, when the fire was low, 

The whisper came to my sill. 



95 



AMONG THE ASPENS 



Now I know there will haunt me ever 
That word of the ancient tongue, 
Whose golden meaning, half divined, 
Was lost when the world was young. 

I know I must seek and seek it, 
Through the wide green earth and round, 
Though I come in ignorance at last 
To the place of the Grassy Mound. 

Yet it may be I shall find it. 
If I keep the patience mild. 
The pliant faith, the eager mind, 
And the heart of a little child. 



96 



AMONG THE ASPENS 



II. 

LEAF TO LEAF. 

You know how aspens whisper 
Without a breath of air ! 
I overheard one lisper 
Yesterday declare, 

" When all the woods are sappy 
And the sweet winds arrive, 
My dancing leaves are happy 
Just to be alive." 

And presently another. 
With that laconic stir 
We take to be each other^ 
Spoke and answered her. 



97 



AMONG THE ASPENS 



" When the great frosts shall splinter 
Our brothers oak and pine. 
In the long night of winter 
Glad fortitude be thine ! " 

And where the quiet river 
Runs by the quiet hill, 
I heard the aspens shiver, 
Though all the air was still. 



III. 

THE PASSER BY. 



Said Aspen Heart to Quaking Leaf, 
" Who goes by on the hill, 
That you should tremble at dead of noon 
When the whole earth is still ? " 



98 



AMONG THE ASPENS 



Said Quaking Leaf to Aspen Heart, 
" A loneliness drew nigh, 
And fear was on us, when we heard 
The mountain rain go by." 

Said Aspen Heart to Quaking Leaf, 
" Who went by on the hill ? 
The rain was but your old grey nurse 
Crossing the granite sill." 

Said Quaking Leaf to Aspen Heart, 
" There was a ghostly sigh. 
And frosty hands were laid on us, 
As the lone fog went by." 

Said Aspen Heart to Quaking Leaf, 
" But who went by on the hill ? 
The white fogs were your playfellows. 
And your companions still." 

L.urCi 

99 



AMONG THE ASPENS 



Said Quaking Leaf to Aspen Heart, 
" We shook, I know not why. 
Huddled together when we saw 
A passing soul go by." 



IV. 
THE QUESTION. 

I wondered who 

Kept pace with me, as I wandered through 

The mountain gorges blue. 

I said to the aspen leaves. 

The timorous garrulous tribe of the forest folk, 

" Who people the wilderness. 

When the wind is away, 

And sparrow and jay 

Keep silence of noon on a summer day ? " 



100 



AMONG THE ASPENS 



And the leaves replied, 

"You must question our brother the rain of the 
mountain-side." 

Then I said to the rain, 
The fleeing silvery multitudes of the rain, 
" Who people the wilderness, 
When the noon is still. 
And valley and hill 

Feel their pulses slow to the summer's will ? " 
And the rain replied, 

" You must ask our brother the fog on the 
outward tide." 

Then I said to the fog. 

The ancient taciturn companies of the sea-mist, 

" Who people the loneliness 

When your hordes emerge 



lOI 



AMONG THE ASPENS 



On the grey sea verge, 

And the wind begins his wailing dirge ? " 

And the fog replied, 

" Inquire of that inquisitor at your side." 

Then I asked myself. But he knew. 
If report of sense be true. 
No more than you. 



V. 

A SENTRY. 



All summer my companion 
Was a white aspen-tree, 
Far up the sheer blue canyon, 
A glad door-ward for me. 



102 



AMONG THE ASPENS 



There at the cabin entry. 
Where beauty went and came, 
Abode that quiet sentry, 
Who knew the winds by name. 

And when to that lone portal, 
All the clear starlight through. 
Came news of things immortal 
No mortal ever knew. 

That vigilant unweary 
Kept solitary post. 
And heard the woodpipes eery 
Of a fantastic host, 

Play down the wind in sadness. 
Play up the wind in glee, — 
The ancient lyric madness. 
The joy that is to be. 

103 



AMONG THE ASPENS 



They passed ; the music ended ; 
And through those rustling leaves 
The morning sun descended, 
With peace about my eaves. 



104 



THE GREEN DANCERS. 

When the Green Dance of summer 
Goes up the mountain clove, 
There is another dancer 
Who follows it for love. 

To the sound of falling water, 
Processional and slow 
The children of the forest 
With waving branches go ; 

And to the wilding music 
Of winds that loiter by. 
By trail, ravine and stream-bed. 
Troop up against the sky. 



los 



THE GREEN DANCERS 

The bending yellow birches, 
The beeches cool and tall, 
Slim ash and flowering locust, 
My gipsy knows them all. 

And light of foot she follows, 
And light of heart gives heed. 
Where in the blue-green chasm 
The wraiths of mist are freed. 

For when the young winged maples 
Hang out their rosy pods. 
She knows it is a message 
From the primeval gods. 

When tanager and cherry 
Show scarlet in the sun, 
She slips her careworn habit 
To put their gladness on, 

1 06 



THE GREEN DANCERS 

And where the chestnuts flower 
Along the mountain-side, 
She, too, assumes the vesture 
And beauty of their pride. 

She hears the freshening music 
That ushers in their day, 
When from the hemlock shadows 
The silver thrushes play. 

When the blue moth at noonday 
Lies breathing with his wings. 
She knows what piercing woodnote 
Across the silence rings. 

And when the winds of twilight 
Flute up the ides of June, 
Where Kaaterskill goes plainward 
Under a virgin moon, 



107 



THE GREEN DANCERS 

My wild mysterious spirit 
For joy cannot be still, 
But with the woodland dancers 
Must worship as they will. 

From rocky ledge to summit 
Where lead the dark-tressed firs, 
Under the open starshine 
Their festival is hers. 

She sees the moonlit laurel 
Spread through the misty gloom 
(The soul of the wild forest 
Veiled in a mesh of bloom). 

Then to the lulling murmur 
Of leaves she, too, will rest. 
Curtained by northern streamers 
Upon some dark hill-crest. 

1 08 



THE GREEN DANCERS 

And Still, in glad procession 
And solemn bright array, 
A dance of gold-green shadows 
About her sleep will play ; 

Her signal from the frontier. 
There is no bar nor toll 
Nor dearth of joy forever 
To stay the gipsy soul. 



109 



THE WIND AT THE DOOR. 

Often to my open door 
Comes a twilight visitor. 

When the mountain summer day 
From our valley takes his way, 

And the journeying shadows stride 
Over the green mountain-side, 

Down the clove among the trees 
Moves the ghostly wandering breeze. 

With the first stars on the crest 
And the pale light in the west. 



no 



THE WIND AT THE DOOR 

He comes up the dark ravine 
Where no traveller is seen. 

Yet his coming makes a stir 
In the house of Ash and Fir : 

" Master, is't in our abode 
You will tarry on the road ? " 

" Nay, I like your roof-tree well, 
But with you I may not dwell." 

Birches whisper at their sill, 
As he passes up the hill : 

" Stranger, underneath our boughs 
There is ample room to house." 

" Friends, I have another quest 
Than your cool abiding rest." 



Ill 



THE WIND AT THE DOOR 

And the fluttering Aspen knows 
Whose step by her doorway goes : 

" Honour, Lord, thy silver tree 
And the chamber laid for thee." 

" Nay, I must be faring on. 
For to-night I seek my own. 

" Breath of the red dust is he 
And a wayfarer like me ; 

" Here a moment and then lost 
On a trail confused and crossed. 

" And I gently would surprise 
Recognition in his eyes ; 

" Touch his hand and talk with him 
When the forest light is dim, 



112 



THE WIND AT THE DOOR 

" Taking counsel with the lord 
Of the utterable word." 

Hark, did you hear some one try 
The west window furtively, 

And then move among the leaves 
In the shadow of the eaves ? 

The reed curtain at the door 
Rustled ; there's my visitor 

Who comes searching for his kin. 
" Enter, brother ; I'm within." 



"3 



AT THE YELLOW OF THE 
LEAF. 

The falling leaf is at the door ; 
The autumn wind is on the hill ; 
Footsteps I have heard before 
Loiter at my cabin sill. 

Full of crimson and of gold 
Is the morning in the leaves ; 
And a stillness pure and cold 
Hangs about the frosty eaves. 

The mysterious autumn haze 
Steals across the blue ravine, 
Like an Indian ghost that strays 
Through his olden lost demesne. 



114 



AT THE YELLOW OF THE LEAF 

Now the goldenrod invades 
Every clearing in the hills ; 
The dry glow of August fades. 
And the lonely cricket shrills. 

Yes, by every trace and sign 
The good roving days are here. 
Mountain peak and river line 
Float the scarlet of the year. 

Lovelier than ever now 
Is the world I love so well. 
Running water, waving bough. 
And the bright wind's magic spell 

Rouse the taint of migrant blood 
With the fever of the road, — 
Impulse older than the flood 
Lurking in its last abode. 



"5 



AT THE YELLOW OF THE LEAF 

Did I once pursue your way, 
Little brothers of the air, 
Following the vernal ray ? 
Did I learn my roving there ? 

Was it on your long spring rides, 
Little brothers of the sea. 
In the dim and peopled tides. 
That I learned this vagrancy ? 

Now the yellow of the leaf 
Bids away by hill and plain, 
I shall say good-bye to grief, 
Way fellow with joy again. 

The glamour of the open door 
Is on me, and I would be gone, — 
Speak with truth or speak no more. 
House with beauty or with none. 

ii6 



AT THE YELLOW OF THE LEAF 

Great and splendid, near and far, 
Lies the province of desire ; 
Love the only silver star 
Its discoverers require. 

I shall lack nor tent nor food. 
Nor companion in the way. 
For the kindly solitude 
Will provide for me to-day. 

Few enough have been my needs ; 
Fewer now they are to be ; 
Where the faintest follow leads, 
There is heart's content for me. 

Leave the bread upon the board ; 
Leave the book beside the chair ; 
With the murmur of the ford. 
Light of spirit I shall fare. 



ai? 



AT THE YELLOW OF THE LEAF 

Leave the latch-string in the door, 
And the pile of logs to burn ; 
Others may be here before 
I have leisure to return. 



u8 



THE SILENT WAYFELLOW 

To-day when the birches are yellow, 
And red is the wayfaring tree, 
Sit down in the sun, my soul. 
And talk of yourself to me ! 

Here where the old blue rocks 
Bask in the forest shine. 
Dappled with shade and lost 
In their reverie divine. 

How goodly and sage they are ! 
Priests of the taciturn smile 
Rebuking our babble and haste. 
Yet loving us all the while. 



119 



THE SILENT WAYFELLOW 

In the asters the wild gold bees 
Make a warm busy drone, 
Where our Mother at Autumn's door 
Sits warming her through to the bone. 

The filmy gossamer threads 
Are hung from the black fir bough, 
Changing from purple to green — 
The half-shut eye knows how. 

What is your afterthought 
When a red leaf rustles down, 
Or the chickadees from the hush 
Challenge a brief renown ? 

When silence falls again 
Asleep on hillside and crest. 
Resuming her ancient mood. 
Do you still say, " Life is best ? " 



120 



THE SILENT WAYFELLOW 

Was this reticence of yours 
By the terms of being imposed ? 
One would say that you dwelt 
With shutters always closed. 

We have been friends so long, 
And yet not a single word 
Of yourself, your kith or kin 
Or home, have I ever heard. 

Nightly we sup and part. 
Daily you come to my door ; 
Strange we should be such mates. 
Yet never have talked before. 

A cousin to downy-feather. 
And brother to shining-fin. 
Am I, of the breed of earth. 
And yet of an alien kin. 



121 



THE SILENT WAYFELLOW 

Made from the dust of the road 
And a measure of silver rain, 
To follow you brave and glad, 
Unmindful of plaudit or pain. 

Dear to the mighty heart. 
Born of her finest mood. 
Great with the impulse of joy, 
With the rapture of life imbued, 

Radiant moments are yours. 
Glimmerings over the verge 
Of a country where one day 
Our forest trail shall emerge. 

When the road winds under a ledge. 
You keep the trudging pace, 
Till it mounts a shoulder of hill 
To the open sun and space. 



122 



THE SILENT WAYFELLOW 

Ah, then you dance and go, 
Illumined spirit again. 
Child of the foreign tongue 
And the dark wilding strain ! 

In these October days 
Have you glimpses hid from me 
Of old-time splendid state 
In a kingdom by the sea ? 

Is it for that you smile. 
Indifferent to fate and fame. 
Enduring this nomad life 
Contented without a name ? 

Through the long winter dark. 
When slumber is at my sill. 
Will you leave me dreamfast there. 
For your journey over the hill ? 



tz3 



THE SILENT WAYFELLOW 

To-night when the forest trees 
Gleam in the frosty air, 
And over the roofs of men 
Stillness is everywhere, 

By the cold hunter's moon 
What trail will you take alone. 
Through the white realms of sleep 
To your native land unknown ? 

Here while the birches are yellow, 
And red is the wayfaring tree. 
Sit down in the sun, my soul. 
And talk of yourself to me. 



IS4 



PICTOR IGNOTUS. 

He is a silent second self 
Who travels with me in the road ; 
I share his lean-to in the hills. 
He shares my modest town abode. 

Under the roof-tree of the world 
We keep the gipsy calendar, 
As the revolving seasons rise 
Above the tree-tops, star by star. 

We watch the arctic days burn down 
Upon the hearthstone of the sun. 
And on the frozen river floors 
The whispering snows awake and run. 



125 



PICTOR IGNOTUS 



Then in the still, portentous cold 
Of a blue twilight, deep and large. 
We see the northern bonfires lit 
Along the world's abysmal marge. 

He watches, with a love untired. 
The white sea-combers race to shore 
Below the mossers' purple huts. 
When April goes from door to door. 

He haunts the mountain trails that wind 
To sudden outlooks from grey crags. 
When marches up the blue ravine 
September with her crimson flags. 

The wonder of an ancient awe 
Takes hold upon him when he sees 
In the cold autumn dusk arise 
Orion and the Pleiades ; 



126 



PICTOR IGNOTUS 



Or when along the southern rim 
Of the mysterious summer night 
He marks, above the sleeping world, 
Antares with his scarlet light. 

The creamy shadow -fretted streets 
Of some small Caribbean town, 
Where through the soft wash of the trades 
The brassy tropic moon looks down ; 

The palm-trees whispering to the blue 
That surfs along the coral key ; 
The brilliant shining droves that fleet 
Through the bright gardens of the sea. 

The crimson-boled Floridian pines 
Glaring in sunset, where they stand 
Lifting their sparse, monotonous lines 
Out of the pink and purple sand ; 



127 



PICTOR IGNOTUS 



The racing Fundy tides that brim 
The level dikes ; the orchards there ; 
And the slow cattle moving through 
That marvellous Acadian airj 

The city of the flowery squares, 
With the Potomac by her door; 
The monument that takes the light 
Of evening by the river shore ; 

The city of the Gothic arch, 
That overlooks a wide green plain 
From her grey churches, and beholds 
The silver ribbon of the Seine ; 

The Indian in his birch canoe, 
The flower-seller in Cheapside ; 
Wherever in the wide round world 
The Likeness and the Word abide ; 



128 



PICTOR IGNOTUS 



He scans and loves the human book, 
With that reserved and tranquil eye 
That watched among the autumn hills 
The golden leisured pomp go by. 

What wonder, since with lavish hand 
Kind earth has given him her all 
Of love and beauty, he should be 
A smiling, thriftless prodigal ! 



129 



EPHEMERON. 

Ah, brother, it is bitter cold in here 
This time of year ! 
December is a sorry month indeed 
For your frail August breed. 

I find you numb this morning on the pane, 
Searching in vain 

A little warmth to thaw those airy vans. 
Arrested in their plans. 

I breathe on you ; and lo, with lurking might 
Those members slight 
Revive and stir ; the little human breath 
Dissolves their frosty death. 



130 



EPHEMERON 



You trim those quick antennae as of old, 

Forget the cold, 

And spread those stiffened sails once more to 

dare 
The elemental air. 

Does that thin deep, unmarinered and blue. 
Come back to you, 

Dreaming of ports whose bearing you have lost, 
Where cruised no pirate frost ? 

Ah, shipmate, there'll be two of us some night, 
In ghostly plight. 

In cheerless latitudes beyond renown, 
When the long frost shuts down. 

What if that day, in unexpected guise, 
Strong, kind, and wise. 
Above me should the great Befriender bow, 
As I above you now, — 

13X 



EPHEMERON 



Reset the ruined time-lock of the heart, 
And bid it start, 

And every frost-bound joint and valve restore 
To supple play once more ! 



132 



THE HERETIC. 

One day as I sat and suffered 
A long discourse upon sin^ 
At the door of my heart I listened^ 
And heard this speech within. 

One whisper of the Holy Ghost 
Outweighs for me a thousand tomes ; 
And I must heed that private word, 
Not Plato's, Swedenborg's, nor Rome'Sc 

The voice of beauty and of power 
Which came to the beloved John, 
In age upon his lonely isle, 
That voice I will obey, or none. 



133 



THE HERETIC 



Let not tradition fill my ears 
With prate of evil and of good, 
Nor superstition cloak my sight 
Of beauty with a bigot's hood. 

Give me the freedom of the earth, 
The leisure of the light and air. 
That this enduring soul some part 
Of their serenity may share ! 

The word that lifts the purple shaft 
Of crocus and of hyacinth 
Is more to me than platitudes 
Rethundering from groin and plinth. 

And at the first clear, careless strain 
Poured from a woodbird's silver throat, 
I have forgotten all the lore 
The preacher bade me get by rote. 



134 



THE HERETIC 



Beyond the shadow of the porch 
I hear the wind among the trees, 
The river babbling in the clove, 
And that great sound that is the sea's. 

Let me have brook and flower and bird 
For counsellors, that I may learn 
The very accent of their tongue. 
And its least syllable discern. 

For I, my brother, so would live 
That I may keep the elder law 
Of beauty and of certitude. 
Of daring love and blameless awe. 

Be others worthy to receive 
The naked messages of God ; 
I am content to find their trace 
Among the people of the sod. 



135 



THE HERETIC 



The gold-voiced dwellers of the wood 
Flute up the morning as I pass ; 
And in the dusk I lay me down 
With star-eyed children of the grass. 

I harken for the winds of spring, 

And haunt the marge of swamp and stream, 

Till in the April night I hear 

The revelation of the dream. 

I listen when the orioles 
Come up the earth with early June, 
And the old apple-orchards spread 
Their odorous glories to the moon. 

So I would keep my natural days, 
By sunlit sea, by moonlit hill. 
With the dark beauty of the earth 
Enchanted and enraptured still. 



136 



AFTER SCHOOL. 

When all my lessons have been learned, 
And the last year at school is done, 
I shall put up my books and games ; 
" Good-by, my fellows, every one ! " 

The dusty road will not seem long. 
Nor twilight lonely, nor forlorn 
The everlasting whippoorwills 
That lead me back where I was born. 

And there beside the open door, 

In a large country dim and cool. 

Her waiting smile shall hear at last, 

" Mother, I am come home from school." 



137 



Copyright, 1902, by 
The Ess Ess Publishing Company (Incorporated) 

Copyright, 1902, 1903, by 
AiNSLEE Magazine Company 

Copyright, 1894, 1895, by 
The Town Topics Publishing Company 

Copyright, 1903, by 
J. B. LiPPiNCOTT Company 

Copyright, 1903, by 
L. C. Page & Company (Incorporated) 



Published, October, 1903 



Colonial '^xtss 

Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. 
Boston, Mass., U. S. A. 



TO 



CONTENTS 



Prelude 

I. There is a wise Magician . 

II. The day is lost without thee 

III. Thou art the sense and semblance . 

IV. Thou art the pride and passion . 
V. In the door of the house of life 

VI. Love, by that loosened hair 

VII. Once more in every tree-top 

VIII. Under the greening willow 

IX. Dear, what hast thou to do 

X. As sudden winds that freak 

XI. As down the purple of the night 

XII. In the Kingdom of Bootes 

XIII. Look, love, along the low hills . 

XIV. The rain-wind from the East 
XV. O purple-black are the wet quince boughs 

XVI. An unseen hand went over the hill . 

XVII. The very sails are singing . 

XVIII. Where the blue comes down to the brine 

XIX. As if the sea's eternal rote 

XX. O wind and stars, I am with you now 

XXI. All the zest of all the ages 

XXII. Eyes like the blue-green 

XXIII. Crimson bud, crimson bud 

vii 



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6 

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9 
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15 
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18 

19 

20 
22 
24 
26 
27 
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29 

30 
31 
33 
35 
37 



CONTENTS 



XXIV. We wandered through the soft spring 
days ...... 

XXV. You pipers in the swales 
XXVI. To-night I hear the rainbirds 
XXVII. Lord of the vasty tent of heaven . 
XXVIII. In the cool of dawn I rose . 
XXIX. Up from the kindled pines . 

XXX. The skiey shreds of rain 
XXXI. On the meridian of the night 
XXXII. Love, lift your longing face up through 
the rain ! 

XXXIII. Swing down, great sun, swing down 

XXXIV. The world is a golden calyx . 
XXXV. Eyes like summer after sundown . 

XXXVI. The sun is lord of a manor fair . 
XXXVII. In God's blue garden the flowers are 

cold 

XXXVIII. First by her starry gaze that falls 
XXXIX. The alchemist who throws his worlds 
XL. Thy mouth is a snow apple . 
XLI. As orchards in an apple land 
XLII. Noon on the marshes and noon on the 

hills 

XLII I. Berrybrown, Berrybrown, give me your 
hands !..... 

XLIV. Wait for me, Cherrychild, when the 
blue dusk ..... 

XLV. Summer love, open your eyes to me 
now! ...... 

XLVI. Through what strange garden ran 



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58 

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60 
61 
62 

^3 
64 

65 
66 

67 
68 



CONTENTS 



XLVII. Let the red dawn surmise 

XLVIII. A breath upon my face 

XLIX. I was a reed in the stilly stream . 

L. I was the west wind over the garden 

LI. A touch of your hair, and my heart was 

furled .... 

LII. In the land of kisses 

LIII. I think the sun when he turns at night 

LIV. I see the golden hunter go . 

LV. You old men with frosty beards . 

LVI. It was the tranquil hour 

LVII. The mountain ways one summer . 

LVIII. Poppy, you shall live forever 

LIX. I loved you when the tide of prayer 

LX. Once of a Northern midnight 

LXI. The forest leaves were all asleep . 

LXII. There sighed along the garden path 

LXIII. And then I knew the first vague bliss 

LXIV. I knew, by that diviner sense 

LXV. A moon-white moth against the moon 

LXVI. What is it to remember ? 

LXVII. She had the fluttering eyelids 

LXVIII. The land lies full, from brim to brim 

LXIX. In the blue opal of a winter noon 

LXX. Far hence in the infinite silence . 

LXXI. Of the whole year, I think, I love 

LXXII, At night upon the mountains 

LXXIII. Once more the woods grow crimson 

LXXIV. Once when the winds of spring came 

home 



Page 
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75 

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83 

84 
86 
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90 
92 

94 
96 

97 
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99 

lOI 

102 
103 

105 
107 

109 
no 



IX 



CONTENTS 



LXXV. 

LXXVI. 

LXXVII. 

LXXVIII. 

LXXIX. 

LXXX. 

LXXXI. 

LXXXII. 

LXXXIII. 

LXXXIV. 

LXXXV. 

LXXXVI. 

LXXXVII. 

LXXXVIII. 

LXXXIX. 

xc. 

XCI. 

XCII. 

XCIII. 

XCIV. 

xcv. 

XCVI. 

XCVII. 

XCVIII. 

XCIX. 



The world is swimming in the light 
When the October wind stole in 
The red frost came with his armies 
Dearest, in this so golden fall . 
Her hair was crocus yellow 
Out of the dust that bore thee . 
Remnants of this soul of mine . 
What is this House at the End of 

the World .... 
A woman sat by the hearth 
The willows are all golden now 

wonder of all wonders . 
This is the time of the golden bough 
When spring comes up the slope of 

the grey old sea .... 
Now spring comes up the world, 

sweetheart 

The rain on the roof is your laughter 
Sweetheart, sweetheart, delay no more 
Out of the floor of the greenish sea 
There's not a little boat, sweetheart 
She said, " In all the purple hills" 

1 saw the ships come wing by wing 
Up and up, they all come up 

I saw you in the gloaming, love 

How unutterably lonely 

Do you know the pull of the wind on 

the sea ? . 
The fishers are sailing; the fleet is 

away ...... 



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119 

120 

122 

124 
127 
128 
129 

130 

131 

133 
134 

135 
136 

137 
138 
140 
141 
142 

143 
145 



CONTENTS 



Page 
C. My love said, " What is the sea ?" . . 147 

CI. The moonlight is a garden . . . 149 

CII. The lily said to the rose . . . .150 

cm. The white water-lilies, they sleep on the 

lake . . . . . . -151 

CIV. What are the great stars white and blue 153 

CV. What is that spreading light far over the 

sea . . . . . . -154 

CVI. Over the sea is a scarlet cloud . .156 

CVII. What lies across my lonely bed . -157 

CVIII. Another day comes up . . . -159 

CIX. Three things there be in the world, 

Yvonne ...... 160 

ex. The first soft green of a Northern spring . 161 

CXI. Now all the twigs and grasses . . 162 

CXII. Our isle is a magic ship .... 164 

CXIII. The sails of the ship are white, love . 165 

CXIV. Look, where the northern streamers wave 

and fold ...... 167 

CXV. I do not long for fame .... 169 

CXVI. I know how the great and golden sun . 170 

CXVII. What will the Angel of the Morning say 172 

CXVIII. Along the faint horizon .... 174 

CXIX. Once more the golden April . . .176 

CXX. Now comes the golden sunlight . . 178 

CXXI. In the blue mystery of the April woods . 179 

Aftersong 180 



XI 



PRELUDE. 

These are the little songs 
The wild sea children sang, 
When the first gold arch of light 
From rim to zenith sprang; 

When all the glad clean joys 
Of being came to birth, 
Out of the darkling womb 
Of the morning of the earth. 

And these are the lyric songs 
The earthborn children sing. 
When wild-wood laughter throngs 
The shy bird-throats of spring; 



PRELUDE 



When there's not a joy of the heart 
But flies like a flag unfurled, 
And the swelling buds bring back 
The April of the world. 

These are the April songs 
The vernal children sing, 
When the yellow pollen dust 
Floats on the stream in spring; 

When the swelling streams go down 
Through the deep and grassy floors, 
And the gold-fish and the turtle 
Bask at their river doors. 

And these are the innocent songs 
The forest children sing, 
When the whippoorwill's unrest 
Is a pulse in the heart of spring ; 



PRELUDE 



When the dark of the frail new moon 
Is a globe of dim sea green, 
And no soul fears what its strange 
Sea-memories may mean. 

These are the happy songs 
The first sea children made, 
When the red morning roused them 
In the deep forest shade; 

When Hillborn said to Seaborn, 
" Sweetheart, but thou art fair ! " 
And the shining silver sea-mist 
Made moonstones in her hair. 

These are the lilting songs 
The dark sea children knew. 
When the sands emerged, and the sea 
Was a lotus of Indian blue; 



PRELUDE 



When, blossom by wind-blown blossom, 
Their virginal zones undone, 
The world was a wide sunflower 
Turning her face to the sun. 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN, 

I. 

There is a wise Magician, 
Who sets a yellow star 
To seal the cinders of the night 
Within a hollow jar. 

And when the jar is broken, 
A marvel has been done ; 
There lies within the rosy dusk 
That coal we call the sun. 

But more than any wonder 
That makes the rose of dawn. 
Is this inheritance of joy 
My heart is happy on. 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



II. 

The day is lost without thee, 
The night has not a star. 
Thy going is an empty room 
Whose door is left ajar. 

Depart: it is the footfall 
Of twilight on the hills. 
Return: and every rood of ground 
Breaks into daffodils. 

Thy coming is companioned 
By presences of bliss; 
The rivers and the little leaves 
All know how good it is. 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



III. 

Thou art the sense and semblance 
Of things that never were, 
The meaning of a sunset, 
The tenor of a star. 

Thou art the trend of morning, 
The burden of June's prime, 
The twilight's consolation. 
The innocence of time. 

Thou art the phrase for gladness 
God coined when he was young. 
The fare- thee- well to sadness 
By stars of morning sung^ 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

The lyric revelation 

To rally and rebuoy 

The darker earth's half sinking 

Temerity of joy. 

Out of the hush and hearkening 
Of the reverberant sea, 
Some happier golden April 
Might fashion things like thee. 

Or if one heart-beat faltered 
In oblivion's drum-roll, 
That perfect idle moment 
Might be thy joyous soul. 

And the long waves of sorrow 
Will search and find no shore 
In all the seas of being, 
When thou shalt be no more. 



8 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



IV. 

Thou art the pride and passion 
Of the garden where God said, 
*' Let us make a man." To fashion 
The beauty of thy head, 

The iron aeons waited 
And died along the hill, 
Nor saw the uncreated 
Dream of the urging will. 

A thousand summers wandered 
Alone beside the sea, 
And guessed not, though they pondered. 
What his design might be. 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

But here in the sun's last hour, 
(So fair and dear thou art!) 
He shuts in my hand his flower, 
His secret in my heart. 



lO 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



V. 

In the door of the house of life, 
Beside the fabled sea, 
I am a harpstring in the wind, 
iEolian for thee. 

It was a cunning idler 
Who strung the even cords 
Across the drift of harmonies 
Impossible to words. 

It was the old Musician, 
With nothing else to do, 
One April when he felt the stir 
Revive him and renew, 



II 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

Made me thy naught but lover, 
A frayed imperfect strand 
Reverberant to every note, 
Alive beneath thy hand! 

But smile, and I am laughter ; 
Look sorrow, and I mourn — 
A spirit from the cave of fears, 
Fantastic and forlorn. 

Sing low — the world is waiting 
Such radiance as thine 
To welcome her returning ships 
Above the dark sea-line. 

Rejoice — I know the cadence. 
Thou innocent and glad, 
To make of every hillside flower 
A dancing Oread. 



12 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

A thing of sense and spirit, 
And moods and melody, 
I am a harpstring in the wind, 
lEolian for thee. 



13 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



YI. 

Love, by that loosened hair, 
Well now I know 
Where the lost Lilith went 
So long ago. 

Love, by those starry eyes 
I understand 

How the sea maidens lure 
Mortals from land. 

Love, by that welling laugh 
Joy claims Its own 
Sea-born and wind-wayward 
Child of the sun. 



14 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



VII. 

Once more in every tree-top 
I hear the hollow wind 
A-blowIng the last remnants 
Of winter from the land. 

Far down the April morning, 
With battle-clang and glee, 
The Boreal intruders 
Are driven to the sea. 

Then softly, buds of scarlet, 
Warm rain, and purple wing 
The tattered glad uncumbered 
Camp-followers of spring! 



*5 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



VIII. 

Under the greening willow 
Wanders a golden cry; 
Oriole April up In the world 
With morning day goes by. 

Out of the virgin quiet 

Like an awakening sigh, 

With the wild, wild heart forever 

A journeyer am I. 

We are the w^Ind's own brothers, 
Sorrow and joy and I ; 
But thou art the hope of morrows 
That shall be by and by. 



i6 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



IX. 

Dear, what hast thou to do 
With the cold moon, 
Free to range, fleet to change, 
So far and soon? 

Dear, what hast thou to do 
With the hoar sea? 
Love alone is his own 
Eternity. 

Dear, what hast thou to do 
With anything 
In the wide world beside 
Joyance and spring? 



I? 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



X. 

As sudden winds that freak 
The fresh face of the sea, 
The tinge upon her cheek 
Tells what the storm will be. 

As purple shadows rise 
Up to the setting sun, 
Her wonderful grey eyes 
Will tell when love is done. 



I8 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XL 

As down the purple of the night 
I watch the flaring meteors race, 
The gorgeous Bedouins of the dusk 
Making across the glooms of space, 

To my fantastic heart's unrest 
That would be gay, that would be gone, 
They seem like trysting lovers' souls 
Too long delayed and hurrying on. 



19 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XII. 

In the Kingdom of Bootes, 
Whose vast cordon none can tell, 
Mirac answers to Arcturus, 
"All Is well!" 

What to them are days and seasons, 
Storm and triumph, plague and war — 
With their large, serene appointments, 
Star for star? 

In this handbreadth of the midnight, 
These heart-confines where we dwell, 
I can hear your spirit answer, 
"All is well!" 



20 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

What to us is night or morrow, 
Or the little pause of death, 
In the rhythm of joy we measure 
Breath by breath? 



\ 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XIII. 

Look, love, along the low hills 

The first stars! 

God's hand is lighting the watchfires for us, 

To last until dawn. 

Hark, love, the wild whippoorwills ! 

Those weird bars. 

Full of dark passion, will pierce the dim forest, 

All night, on and on. 

Till the overbrimmed bowl of life spills, 

And time mars 

The one perfect piece of his handcraft, love's 

lifetime 
From dewrise till dawn. 

22 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

Foolish heart, fearful of ills! 

Shall the stars 

Require a reason, the birds ask a morrow? 

Heed thou love alone! 



23 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XIV. 

The rain-wind from the East, 

So long a wanderer 

Beyond the sources of the sun, 

Brings back the crocus April and the showers. 

A heart upwelling in the forest flowers 

Has made them lovers every one. 

Who makes the twilight seem to stir 

In happy tears released? 

There, there, sweetheart! 

The night-wind from the West, 

The broad eaves of the sky, 

Brings back across the orchard hills 

The memories of a thousand springs with him ; 



24 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

And the white apple valleys in a dream 
Listen to the dark whippoorwills. 
Is the old burden of their joy 
So great they cannot rest? 
There, there, sweetheart! 



*5 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XV. 

O purple-black are the wet quince boughs, 
Where the buds begin to burn! 
And fair enough is Spring's new house, 
Made fresh for Love's return. 

She has taken him in and locked the door. 
And thrown aw^ay the key. 
When Free-foot finds his Rove-no-more, 
What use is liberty? 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XVI. 

An unseen hand went over the hill, 
And lit the cresset stars, 
And below the summer sea was strewn 
With mysterious nenuphars. 

The little wind of twilight came 
With the gladdest of words to me, 
" The tide is full, the night is fair, 
And Her window waits for thee ! " 



«7 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XVII. 

The very sails are singing 
A song not of the wind ; 
A fire dance is creaming 
Our wake that runs behina. 

In all the shining splendid 
White moonflower of the sea, 
There's not a runnel sleeping 
For ecstasy of thee. 



s8 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XVIII. 

Where the blue comes down to the brine, 

And the brine goes up to the blue, 

It's shine, shine, shine. 

The whole day through, 

The whole summer day long, dear. 

Till the sun like a harbour buoy, 
Is riding afloat in the west. 
And it's joy, joy, joy. 
For the place of his rest. 
The haven of No-more-fear. 

Then the stars come out on the sea. 
To dance on the purple floor. 
Their Master has turned the key 
In the silver door, 

And my heart's delight draws near. 
29 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XIX. 

As if the sea's eternal rote 
Might cease to set remembrance wild, 
The breezy hair, the lyric throat 
Were given to the surf-born child. 

And the great forest found a voice 
For her along the brookside brown, 
That bids the purple dusk rejoice, 
And croons the golden daylight down. 



30 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XX. 

wind and stars, I am with you now; 
An(l ports of day, Good-by! 

When my captain Love puts out to sea, 
His mariner am I. 

1 set my shoulder to the prow, 
And launch from the pebbly shore. 
The tide pulls out, and hints of time 
Blow in from the cool sea floor. 

My sheering sail is a swift white wing 
Crowding the gloom with haste; 
I scud through the large and solemn world, 
And skim the wan grey waste. 



ax 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

O Stars and wind, be with me now; 
And ports of night, draw near! 
No sooner the longed for seamark shines, 
Than the very dark grows dear. 



3« 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XXI. 

All the zest of all the ages 
Shimmers in my sea-bird's wing, 
Flickering above the surges 
Of the sea. 

All the quiet of the ages 
Slumbers in my sea-bird's wing, 
Where it settles down the verges 
Of the sea. 

All the questing soul's behesting 
Pent and freed in one white wing. 
Joying there above the dirges 
Of the sea. 



??. 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

Be thou, sweetheart, such a sweetheart! 
All the valour of the spring 
Crowds thy pulses with the urges 
Of the sea; 

Till this drench of joy, thou sweetheart, 
Fills the spaces of the spring, 
And the large fresh night emerges 
From the sea. 



S4 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XXII. 

Eyes like the blue-green 
Shine of the sea, 
Where the swift shadows run, 
Whose soul is free. 

Shimmer of sunlight, 
Shadow of gloom, 
Wayward as ecstasy, 
Solemn as doom. 

Triumph, transplendour, 
Joy through and through. 
Till the soul wonders what 
Sense next may do. 



35 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

Hair like the blown grass 
Brown on the hill, 
Where the wide wandering 
Wind has his will. 

Spirit, the nomad, 
Whither to wend, 
Knows not and fears not, 
To the world's end. 

Seadusk or Dawnbright 
Name the earth's child, 
Like the wind, like the sea, 
Virginal wild. 



3t> 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XXIII. 

" Crimson bud, crimson bud, 
How come you here, 
Daring the upper world, 
Blithe without fear?" 

" Goldy plume, goldy plume, 
Ages ago, 

Came to my House of Dark 
One through the snow." 

" Crimson bud, crimson bud, 
What was the word, 
Down in the frozen earth, 
Sleeping, you heard?" 



37 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

" Goldy plume, goldy plume, 
Deep in the mould, 
Somebody whispered me, 
^Budkin, be bold!'" 

" Crimson bud, crimson bud. 
What was his name — 
Taught you such valour 
And girt you with flame? " 

" Ah, fellow wayfarer," 
Whispered the gloom, 
" When they shall question, say, 
Love bade me come! " 



38 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XXIV. 

We wandered through the soft spring days, 
And heard the flowers 
Talking among themselves of joys 
That were not ours. 

Till April in a softening mood 
Faltered a word 
The pretty gossips of the wood 
Had scarcely heard. 

But somehow you, you caught the lilt 
Of that wild speech 
The tiny tribesmen found occult 
Beyond their reach. 



39 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

Now when the rainman walks the field, 

And robin sings, 

I hark to promises that hold 

A thousand springs. 



40 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XXV. 

You pipers in the swales, 

Tune up your reedy flutes, 

And blow and blow to bring me back 

My little girl in spring! 

Take all the world beside, 

And flute it far away 

For less than nought, but give me back 

One sleepless night in spring. 



4^ 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XXVI. 

To-night I hear the rainbirds 
Piercing the silver gloom; 
The scent of the sea-blown lilacs 
Wanders across my room. 

Caught in their wake I follow 
The drift of memory; 
Once more the summer twilight 
Settles upon the sea. 

I shut my eyes and see you 
Under the lilacs stand, 
While the soft mists of sea-rain 
Are blowing in to land. 



42 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

Your little hands steal upward, 
Our fingers interlace; 
And through the driving sea-dark 
I feel your burning face. 

One little hour of heaven 
Lost in a single kiss; 
And then we two forever 
The castaways of bliss. 

To-night the scent of lilacs 
Comes up to me again, 
And ghosts of buried summers 
Walk with the lonely rain. 

But ah, what rooftree shelters 
To-night the dear black head? 
Only the sea wind answers — 
And leaves of the word unsaid. 



43 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XXVII. 

Lord of the vasty tent of heaven, 
Who hast to thy saints and sages given 
A thousand nights with their thousand stars, 
And the star of faith for a thousand years. 



Grant me, only a foolish rover 
All thy beautiful wide world over, 
A thousand loves in a thousand days. 
And one great love for a thousand years. 




44 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XXVIII. 

In the cool of dawn I rose; 
Life lay there from hill to hill 
In the core of a blue pearl, 
As it seemed, so deep and still. 

Not a word the mountains said 
Of the day that was to be. 
As I crossed them, till you came 
At the sunrise back with me. 

Then we heard the whitethroat sing, 
And the world was left behind. 
A new paradise arose 
Out of his untarnished mind. 



45 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

The brown road lay through the wood. 
And the forest floor was spread 
For our footing with the fern, 
And the cornel berries red. 

There the woodland rivers sang; 
Not a sorrow touched their glee, 
Dancing up the yellow sun, 
From the purple mountain sea. 

Towns and turbulence and fame 
Were as fabled things that lay 
Through the gateway of the notch, 
Long ago and far away. 

There we loitered and went on. 
Where the roadside berries grew; 
Earth with all its joy once more 
Was made over for us two. 



46 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

And at last a meaning filled 
The round morning fair and good, 
Waited for a thousand years, 
There was no more solitude. 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XXIX. 

Up from the kindled pines, 
Lo, the lord Sun! 
What shall his children find 
When day is done? 

Ere thy feet follow him 
Over the sea, 
Love, turn thy glorious 
Eyes once to me! 

High in the burning noon, 
Lo, the lord Sun 
Sleeps, with his hand slack. 
His girdle undone. 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

Ere thy feet follow him 
Over the hill, 

Love, lace thy heart to mine, 
Time has stood still. 

Down by the valley-night 
Sings the great sea; 
Over the mountain rim 
Day walks for thee. 

Ere thy feet follow him 
Into far lands. 
Love, lift thy mouth to me 
Up through thy hands! 

Well do they journey 
Who joy as they go; 
Hear his hills whispering, 
" So, it is so." 



49 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

Ere thy feet follow him 
Down to the shade, 
Love, loose thy zone to me, 
Mistress and maid! 

Down to the kindling pines, 
Lo, the lord Sun 
Goes unreluctant 
And day is done. 



(• 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XXX. 

The skle)^ shreds of rain 

Are all blown loose again, 

And bright among the dripping chestnut boles 

Whistle the orioles. 

As if wise Nature knew 

The finest thing to do, 

And touched her forestry, supremely done, 

With these few flakes of sun. 

To-night by the June sea 

You are cqme back to me. 

Through all the mellow dark from hill to hill 

That gladdens and grows still; 



SI 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

As though wise Nature guessed 

Her love joys were the best, 

When down the darkling spaces of desire 

She sent your song and fire. 



52 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XXXI. 

On the meridian of the night 
Alcar the Tester marks high June; 
Arcturus knows his zenith fame; 
No grass-head sleeps upon the dune. 

And up from the southeastern sea, 
Antares, the red summer star, 
Brings back the ardours of the earth, 
Like fire opals in a jar: 

The frail and misty sense of things 
Beyond mortality's ado, 
The soft delirium of dream, 
And joy pale virgins never knew. 



53 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XXXII. 

Love, lift your longing face up through the rain! 
In the white drench of it over the hills, 
Blurring remembrance and quieting pain, 
Stretch the strong hands of the sea. 

Love, h'ft 3'our longing face up through the rain ! 
In the bleak rote of it through the far hills, 
Rhythmed to joy and untarnished of pain, 
Calls the great heart of the sea. 



54 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XXXIII. 

Swing down, great sun, sw^ing down, 
And beat at the gates of day, 
To open and let thee forth! 
I would not have thee stay. 

Swing up, dear stars, and shine 
Over the baths of the sea! 
To-night, my beautiful one 
Will open her arms for me. 



55 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XXXIV. 

The world is a golden calyx, 
A-swing in the blooth of time, 
Where floret to floret ripens 
And the starry blossoms rhyme. 

Thou art the fair seed vessel 
Waiting all day for me, 
Who ache with the golden pollen 
The night will spill for thee. 



56 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XXXV. 

Eyes like summer after sundown, 
Hands like roses after dew, 
Lyric as a blown rose garden 
The wind wanders through. 

Swelling breasts that bud to crimson, 
Hair like cobwebs after dawn. 
And the rosy mouth wind-rifled 
When the wind is gone. 



57 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XXXVI. 

The sun is lord of a manor fair, 

And the earth his garden old, 

Whose dewy beds where he walks at morn 

Flower by flower unfold. 

When he goes at night and leaves the stars 
Lit in the trees to shine, 
Blossom by blossom the flowerheads sleep — 
And a rosy head by mine. 



58 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XXXVII. 

In God's blue garden the flowers are cold, 
As you tell them over star by star, 
Sirlus, Algol, pale Altair, 
Lone Arcturus, and Algebar. 

In love's red garden the flowers are warm, 
As I count them over and kiss them by, 
From the sultry royal rose-red mouth 
To the last carnation dusk and shy. 



59 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XXXVIII. 

First by her starry gaze that falls 
Aside, as if afraid to know 
The stronger self who stirs and calls, 
I think she came from a land of snow. 

Then by her mood that melts to mine 
Her body and her soul's desire. 
Under the shifting forest shine, 
I think she came from a land of fire. 



60 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XXXIX. 

The alchemist who throws his worlds 
In the round crucible of the sun, 
Has laid our bodies in the forge 
Of love to weld them into one. 

The hypnotist who waves his hand 
And the pale streamers walk the night, 
A moment for our souls unbars 
The lost dominions of delight. 



6i 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XL. 

Thy mouth Is a snow apple, 

Thy tongue a rosy melon core, 

Thy breasts are citrons odorous of the East. 

I know that nursery tale of Eden now, 

Where God prepared the feast 

Beneath the bow. 

I ask no more. 

The apple-trees have whispered 

The only word I listened for 

Through all the legends babbled in my ears. 

I know what manner of unbitten fruit 

The first man took with fears 

And found so sweet. 

I ask no more. 

62 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XLI. 

As orchards in an apple land, 
That whiten to the moon of May, 
Hear the first rainbird's ecstasy 
Peal from the dark hills far away; 

The wintry spaces of my soul, 
Snowed under by the drift of time, 
Feel immortality begin 
As your long kisses surge and climb. 



63 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XLII. 

Noon on the marshes and noon on the hills, 
And joy in the white sail that shivers and fills. 

Gold are the grain lands, and gold is the sea, 
And gold is my little love maid to me. 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XLIII. 

Berrybrown, Berrybrown, give me your hands! 
Here in the bracken shade will we not well 
Wring the warm summer world dry of its honey ? 
God made a heaven before He made hell. 

Berrybrown, Berrybrown, give me your eyes; 
Let their shy quivering rapture and deep 
Melt as they merge in mine melting above them ! 
God made surrender before He made sleep. 

Berrybrown, Berrybrown, give me your mouth, 
Till all is done 'twixt a breath and a breath! 
Naught shall undo the one joy-deed for ever, 
God made desire before He made death. 



6S 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XLIV. 

Wait for me, Cherrychild, when the blue dusk 
Falls from the silent star-spaces and fills 
With utter peace the great heart of the hills, 
Child, Cherrychild! 

Call to me, Cherrychild, when the blue dusk 
First throbs to passion among the dark hills, 
In the brown throats of the lone whippoorwills. 
Child, Cherrychild! 

Come to me, Cherrychild, in the blue dusk! 
Forlorn and loverless as the wild sea, 
Long have I lain alone, longing for thee, 
Child, Cherrychild. 



66 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XLV. 

Summer love, open your eyes to me now! 
June's on the mountain and day's at the door. 
Time shall turn back for us one crimson hour, 
Ere the white seraph winds walk the sea floor. 

Summer heart, open your arms to me now! 
Beautiful wonder-eyed spirit's home, here 
With the eternal ache quenched in the bliss, 
One golden minute outmeasures a year. 

Sweet heaven! Open your arms to me now! 
There, dearest body, cease trembling, lie still! 
Joy, how the June birds are shivered with song! 
And see, the first shreds of dawn over the hill. 



67 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XLVL 

Through what strange garden ran 

The sultry stream whereon 

This languorous nenuphar of love could grow? 

Such melting ardours spending to the moon, 

From swoon to swoon! 

My wondrous moonflower white, 
Outspread in the warm night, 
Tinged with a rosy tint, a golden glow. 
And fervours of enchantment it must hide 
Till daylight died. 

It lies so soft and fond, 
Wilted in my hot hand, 



68 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

That was so dewy fresh an hour ago. 

" Can life be, then," my soul is pondering, 

"So frail a thing?" 

And all because I laid 

The snowy petals wide; 

Having heard tell, yet longing still to know. 

What sweet things youth might barter ignorance 

for, 
Once and no more. 



60 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XLVIL 

Let the red dawn surmise 
What we shall do, 
When this blue starlight dies 
And all is through. 

If we have loved but well 
Under the sun, 
Let the last morrow tell 
What we have done. 



70 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XLVIII. 

A breath upon my face, 
A whisper at my ear, 
Filling this leafy place, 
Tell me love is here. 

The sea-gloom of her eyes. 
The apples of her breast, 
The shadows where she lies, 
A-tremble or at rest. 

The little rosy knees, 
The beech-brown of her hair 
A thousand things like these 
Tell me love is fair. 



71 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

The clinging of her kiss, 
Her heart that looks beyond, 
The joys she will not miss, 
Tell me love is fond. 

And when I am away, 
A weary dying fall, 
Haunting the wind by day. 
Tells me love is all. 



72 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XLIX. 

I was a reed in the stilly stream, 

Heigh-ho! 

And thou my fellow of moveless dream, 

Heigh-lo. 

Hardly a word the river said. 

As there we bowed him a listless head : 

Only the yellowbird pierced the noon ; 
And summer died to a drowsier swoon, 

Till the little wind of night came by, 
With the little stars in the lonely sky, 

And the little leaves that only stir. 
When shiest wood-fellows confer. 
73 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

It shook the stars In their purple sphere, 
And laid a frost on the lips of fear. 

It woke our slumbering desire, 

As a breath that blows a mellow fire, 

And the thrill that made the forest start. 
Was a little sigh from our happy heart. 

This is the story of the world. 

Heigh-ho ! 

This is the glory of the world, 

Heigh-lo. 



74 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



L. 



I was the west wind over the garden, 
Out of the twilit marge and deep; 
You were the sultry languorous flower, 
Famished and filled and laid to sleep. 

I was the rover bee, and you — 

With the hot red mouth where a soul might 

drown, 
And the buoyant soul where a man might 

swim — 
You were the blossom that drew me down. 



75 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LI. 



A touch of your hair, and my heart was furled ; 
A drift of fragrance, and noon stood still; 
All of a sudden the fountain there 
Had something to whisper the sun on the hill. 

Rose of the garden of God's desire, 

Only the passionate years can prove 

With sorrow and rapture and toil and tears 

The right of the soul to the kingdom of love. 



76 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LII. 

In the land of kisses 
The very winds were stirred 
To mortal speech. But this is 
The only tale I heardo 

In the land of kisses 
Your mouth is a red bloom, 
Aching to know the blisses 
That perish and consume. 

In the land of kisses 
My mouth is a red moth 
Searching in the dusk. And this is 
The rapture for us both. 



77 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LIII. 

I think the sun when he turns at night, 
And lays his face against the sea's, 
Must have such thoughts as these. 

I think the wind, when he wakes at dawn, 
Must wonder, seeing hill by hill. 
That they can sleep so still. 



78 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LIV. 

I see jhe golden hunter go, 
With his hound star close at heel, 
Through purple fallows above the hill. 
When the large autumn night is still 
And the tide of the world is low. 

And while to their unwearied quest 

The sister Pleiads pass, 

That seventh loveliest and lost 

Desire of all the orient host 

Is here upon my breast. 



79 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LV. 

You old men with frosty beards, 
I am wiser than you all; 
I have seen a fairer page 
Than Belshazzar's w^all. 

You young men with scornful lips, 
I am stronger than you all ; 
I have sown the Cadmian field 
Where no shadows fall. 

For a w^oman yesterday 
Loved me, body, soul, and all. 
Saints will lift their crow^ns to me 
At the Judgment Call. 



80 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LVL 

It was the tranquil hour 

Of earth's expectancy, 

When we lay on the Wishing Sands 

Beside the sleeping sea. 

We saw the scarlet moon rise 
And light the pale grey land ; 
We heard the whisper of the tide, 
The sighing of the sand. 

I felt the ardent flutter 

Your heart gave for delight; 

You knew how earth is glad and hushed 

Under the tent of night. 



8i 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

We dreamed the dream of lovers, 
And told our dream to none; 
And all that we desired came true, 
Because we wished as one. 



S« 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LVII. 

The mountain ways one summer 
Saw joy and life go past, 
When we who fared so lonely 
Were hand in hand at last. 

Till over us the pine woods 
Their purple shadows cast, 
And the tall twilight laid us 
Hot mouth to mouth at last. 

O hills, beneath your slumber, 
Or pines, below your blast, 
Make room for your two children, 
Cold cheek to cheek at last! 



S3 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LVIII. 

Poppy, you shall live forever 
With the crimson of her kiss, 
Through a summer day undreamed of 
In a land like this. 

Once I bartered with Oblivion: 
For the crimson of her kiss 
I would give a thousand morrows 
Of a day like this. 

But I was a foolish buyer; 

For the crimson of her kiss 

Woke me, and I heard the wind say, 

" Nevermore like this! " 



84 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



Poppy, you shall sleep forever 
With the crimson of her kiss 
Through the centuries, undreamed of 
In a rhyme like this. 



85 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LIX. 

I loved you when the tide of prayer 
Swept over you, and kneeling there 
In the pale summer of the stars, 
You laid your cheek to mine. 

I loved you when the auroral fire, 
Like the world's veriest desire. 
Burned up, and as It touched the sea. 
You laid your limbs to mine. 

I loved you when you stood tiptoe 
To say farewell, and let me go 
Into the night from your laced arms. 
And laid your mouth to mine. 



SO 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

And I shall love you on that day 
The wind comes over the sea to say 
Your golden name upon men's mouths, 
And mix your dust with mine. 



87 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LX. 

Once of a Northern midnight, 
By dike and mountainside, 
With fleeces for her habit, 
The moon went forth to ride 

Up from the ocean caverns, 
Where ancient memories bide, 
Returning with his secret 
We heard the muttering tide. 

But fear was not upon you; 
Your woman's arms were wide; 
The world's poor shreds and tatters 
Of mumming laid aside. 



88 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

The sea-rote for our ruble, 
Our ritual and guide, 
There was a virgin wedding 
Whose vows no priest supplied. 

And there until the dawn-wind 
Up from the marshes sighed. 
Whispered among the aspens, 
Shivered and passed and died. 

Our scene-shifter the moonlight, 
Our orchestra the tide, 
I was a prince of fairy, 
You were a prince's bride. 



89 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXI. 

The forest leaves were all asleep, 
The yellow stars were on the hill, 
The roving winds were all away, 
Only the tide was restless still, 

When I awoke. My chamber dim 
Was flooded by the cool, sweet night, 
And in the hush I seemed aware 
Of premonitions of delight. 

Who called me lightly as I slept? 
Who touched my forehead with soft hands? 
Who summoned me without a sound 
Back from the vague, mysterious lands? 



90 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

It must have been my sleepless heart 

Knocking upon his prison door, 

To bid old Reason have a care 

Lest Joy should pass and come no more. 



91 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXII. 

There sighed along the garden path 
And through the open door a stir; 
'Twas not the rustle of the corn, 
Nor yet the whisper of the fir. 

There passed an Eastern odour, fraught 
With the delirium of sense; 
'Twas not the attar of the rose, 
Nor the carnation's redolence. 

Then came a glimmering of white — 
The drench of sheer diaphanous lawn, 
More palpable than light of stars, 
And more delectable than dawn. 



92 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

The Paphian curve from throat to waist, 
From waist to knee, then lost again, 
Told me how beauty such as hers 
Spreads like a madness among men. 



93 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXIII. 

And then I knew the first vague bliss 
That swept through Lillth like strange fire, 
Consuming all her loveliness 
With one imperious desire, 

When In the twilight she beheld, 
Through the green apple shades obscure, 
The Lord God moulding from the dust 
Her splendid virgin paramour. 

I knew what aching shudder ran 
Through the dark bearers, file on file, 
When Pharaoh's daughter went to merge 
Her peerless beauty in the Nile; 



94 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

What slumbering deliciousness 
Awoke beside the Dorian stream 
When the young prince from over sea 
Broke on the lovely Spartan's dream; 

And all the fervour and desire, 
The raptures and the ecstasies, 
Of Aucassin and NicoUette, 
Of Abelard and Heloise, 

And all the passionate despair, 
So bravely borne for many a year, 
Of Tristram and the dark Iseult, 
Of Launcelot and Guinevere! 



95 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXIV. 

I knew, by that diviner sense 
Which wakes to beauty sweet and lone, 
Once more beneath the moonlit boughs 
Astarte had unloosed her zone; 

Immortal passion, fair and wild, 
Remembering her joys of yore, 
Had taken on the human guise 
To glad one mortal lover more. 



QO 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXV. 

A moon-white moth against the moon, 
A sea-blue raindrop in the sea, 
A grain of pollen on the air. 
This little virgin soul might be. 

As if a passing breath of wind 
Should stir the poplars in the night, 
Her wondrous spirit woke from sleep, 
And shivered with unknown delight. 

As if a sudden garden door 
Should open in a granite wall, 
She trembled at the brink of joy, 
So great and so ephemeral. 



97 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXVI. 

What is it to remember? 

How white the moonlight poured into the room, 

That summer long ago! 

How still it w^as 

In that great solemn midnight of the North, 

A century ago! 

And how I wakened trembling 

At soft love-whispers warm against my cheek, 

And laughed it was no dream! 

Then far away, 

The troubled, refluent murmur of the sea, 

A sigh within a dream! 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXVII. 

She had the fluttering eyelids 
Like petals of a rose; 
I had the wisdom never learned 
From any musty prose. 

She had the melting ardour 
That hesitates yet dares; 
And I had youthful valour's look, 
That is so like despair's. 

She had the tender bearing 
Of daffodils in spring; 
And I had sense enough to know 
Love is a fleeting thing. 



99 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

She had the heart of tinder; 
I had the lips of flame; 
And neither of us ever heard 
Procrastination's name. 

She had the soft demeanour, 
Discreet as any nun's; 
And each of us has all the joy 
God gives his foolish ones. 



lOO 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXVIII. 

The land lies full, from brim to brim 
Of the great smoke-blue mountains' rim. 
Of yellow autumn and red sun. 
A giant in content, the day 
Idles the solemn hours away 
To dreamland one by one. 

Life is the dominance of good, 
And love the ecstasy of mood, 
Your hand in my hand says to me. 
Yet, somewhere in the waste between 
Being and sense, I hear a threne 
Wash like the dirging sea. 



lOI 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXIX. 

In the blue opal of a winter noon, 

When all the world was a white floor 

Lit by the northern sun, 

I saw with naked eyes a midday star 

Burn on like gleaming spar, 

Where all its fellows of the mighty dusk 

Had perished one by one. 

When I shall have put by the vagrant will, 

And down this rover's twilight road 

Emerge into the sun. 

Be thou my only sheer and single star, 

Known, named, and followed far. 

When all these Jack-o'-lantern hopes and fears 

Have perished one by one! 

102 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXX. 

Far hence in the infinite silence 
How we shall learn and forget, 
Know and be known, and remember 
Only the name of regret? 

Sown in that ample quiet, 

We shall break sheath and climb, 

Seeds of a single desire 

In the heart of the apple of time. 

We shall grow wise as the flowers, 
And know what the bluebirds sing. 
When the hands of the grasses unravel 
The wind in the hollows of spring. 



103 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

And out of the breathless summer 
The aspen leaves will stir, 
At your low sweet laugh to remember 
The imperfect things we were. 



104 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXXI. 

Of the whole year, I think, I love 
The best that time we used to call 
The Little Summer of All Saints, 
About the middle of the fall, 

Because there fell the golden days 
Of that gold year beside the sea. 
When first I had you at heart's will, 
And you had your whole will of me. 

It is the being's afternoon, 
The second summer of the soul. 
When spirits find a way to reach 
Beyond the sense and its control. 



los 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

Then come the firmamental days, 
The underseason of the year, 
When God himself, being well content, 
Takes time to whisper in our ear. 

Sweetheart, once more by every sign 
Of blade and shadow, it must be 
The Little Summer of All Saints 
In the red Autumn by the sea. 



io6 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXXII. 

At night upon the mountains 
The magic moon goes by, 
And stops at every threshold 
With lure and mystery. 

And then my lonely fancy 
Can bide content no more, 
But through an autumn country 
Must search from door to door, 

Till in a quiet valley, 
Under a quiet sky. 
Is found the one companion 
To bid the v^^orld good-by. 

107 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

And once again at moonrise 
We wander hand in hand, 
With the last grief forgotten, 
Through an enchanted land. 



108 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXXIII. 

Once more the woods grow crimson, 
Once more the year burns down, 
Once more my feet come home 
To the little seaboard town. 

Once more I learn desire 
Prevails but to endure, 
And the heart springs to meet 
Your hand-touch — and be sure. 



109 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXXIV. 

Once when the winds of spring came home 

From the far countries where they roam, 

I heard them tell 

Of things I could not understand, 

And strange adventures in a land 

Where all was well. 

I do not wonder any more 

What Autumn at his open door 

Is dreaming of; 

I am so happy to have done 

With all the things underneath the sun 

Save only love. 



no 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXXV. 

The world is swimming in the light, 
Sheer as a bubble green and gold. 
On the purpureal autumn walls 
Once more time's rubric is unrolled. 

As if the voice of the blue sea 
Sufficed for summer's utmost speech, 
But now the very hills must help 
And lift their heart to the lyric reach. 

Scarlet, diaphanous and glad, 

The valiant message waves and burns. 

The elemental cry that lurks 

Deep as the cold heart of the Norns. 



Ill 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXXVI. 

When the October wind stole in 
To wake me in my chamber cool, 
With dancing sunlight on the wall, 
From the still vestibule 

Fluttered a sound like rustling leaves, 
Or the just-heard departing stir 
Of silk, a hint of presence gone, 
A waft of lavender. 

I saw upon my arms strange marks. 
Traced when my eyes were unaware, 
Like petal-stains of some green rose 
Or faint kiss-bruises there; 



112 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

And wondered, as there came the sad 
Eternal whisper of the sea, 
Which one of all my pale dead loves 
Had spent the night with me. 



"1 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXXVII. 

The red frost came with his armies 
And camped by the sides of the sea. 
The maples and the oaks took on 
His gorgeous livery. 

They dyed their tents a madder, 
Alizarin and brown, 
And dipped their banners in the sun 
To give their joy renown. 

And lo, when twilight sobered 
Their dauntless cinnabars. 
Along the outposts of the sea 
The watch-fires of the stars! 

114 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

And I for love of roving 
Am listed with the king, 
Because I knew the password, 
" Joy is the only thing! " 



115 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXXVIII. 

Dearest, in this so golden fall, 
When beauty aches with her own bliss, 
One thought the pause to my desire 
And my small consolation is. 

I am a child. A thistle seed 
On the boon wind is more than I, 
Yet will the hand that sows the hills 
Have care of me too when I die. 

When I who love thee without words 
Sink as a foam-bell in the sea, 
One who has no regard for fame 
Will neither have contempt for me. 



ii6 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXXIX. 

Her hair was crocus yellow, 
Her eyes were crocus blue, 
Her body was the only gate 
Of paradise I knew. 

Her hands were velvet raptures, 
Her mouth a velvet bliss; 
Not Lilith in the garden had 
So wonderful a kiss. 

To know her was to banish 
Reason for once and all. 
Her voice was like a silver door 
Set in a scarlet wall. 

117 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

For when she said, " I love you," 
It was as when the tide 
Yearns for the naked moonlight, 
An unreluctant bride. 

And when she said, " Ah, leave me," 
It was as when the sea 
Sighs at the ebb, or a spent wind 
Dies in the aspen tree. 



ii8 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXXX. 

Out of the dust that bore thee, 
What wonder walking came, — 
What beauty like blown grasses, 
What ardour like still flame! 

What patience of the mountains, 
What yearning of the sea, 
What far eternal impulse 
Endowed the world with thee? 

A reed within the river, 
A leaf upon the bough. 
What breath of April ever 
Was half so dear as thou? 

119 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXXXI. 

Remnants of this soul of mine, 
This same self that once was me, 
Flock and gather and grow one, 
Whole once more at thought of thee. 

Never yet was such a love, 
So supremely fond as thou; 
Never mortal lover yet 
So beloved as thine is now. 

I a foam-head in the sea. 
Thou the tide to lift and run; 
I a sombre-crested hill, 
Thou the purple light thereon. 



1 20 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

Tide may ebb and light may fail, 
But not love's sincerity, — 
More enduring than the sun, 
More compelling than the sea. 



121 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXXXIL 

What is this House at the End of the World, 
Where the sun leaves ofE and the snow begins, 
And the drift of the grey sea spins? 

O this is the house where I was born, 
At the world's far edge one April day, 
Within sound of the white sea spray. 

The place is lone, where the hills recede. 
And the sea slopes over the world's far side, 
And nothing moves but the tide, — 

The moaning tide and the silent sun, 

The wind and the stars and the Northern light. 

Changing the watch by night. 

122 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

And of all the travellers who questioned me, 
Why I make my home in so quiet a land, 
Not a soul could understand. 

Till the day you came with love In your eyes, 
And asked no more than the sun on the wall, 
Yet understood It all. 

And my house has been filled to overflow 
With beauty and laughter and peace since then. 
And joys of the world of men. 



123 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXXXIII. 

A woman sat by the hearth, 

And a man looked out at the door. 

" O lover, I hear a sound 

As of approaching storm, 

When the sea makes in from the north 

With thunder and chafing and might, 

And trundles the quaking ground." 

" It is not the sea you hear. 
The ice in the river is loosed; 
You hear its grinding mills 
Wearing the winter away, 
And the grist of grief and cold 



124 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

Shall soon be the meal of joy. 
O heart of me, April is here ! " 

" O lover, I hear a sigh 

As of the boding wind 

In the murmurous black pines, 

Or a stir as of beating wings 

When the fleeing curlews fly." 

" It is not the wind's great hum; 

The bees in the willow blooms, 

All golden-dusted now, 

Sing in their chantry loft 

As when earth the immortal was young, 

Busy with ardour and joy. 

O heart of mine, April is come! " 

" O lover, my heart aches sore ; 
My hands would fondle your hair. 
My cheek be laid to your cheek; 
125 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

A Strange new wild great word 
Knocks at my heart's closed door." 

" Who is not a learner now ? 

We endure, and seasons change, 

And the heart grows great and strange 

With the beauty of earth and time. 

Our lives unfold and get free, 

As the streams and the creatures do, 

To range through the April now." 

Like a gold spring-flower in his arms, 
She stood by the open door. 



126 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXXXIV. 

The willows are all golden now, 

And grief is past and olden now; 

To the wild heart 

There comes a start 

Will help it and embolden now. 

The birch tips are all slender now; 

The April light is tender now; 

And the soft skies 

Are calm and wise 

With vision of new splendour now. 

The streets are full of gladness now, — 

Forget their look of sadness now; 

While up and down 

The flowery town 

Comes back the old spring madness now. 

J2J 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXXXV. 

O wonder of all wonders, 

The winter time is done, 

And to the low, bleak, bitter hills 

Comes back the melting sun! 

O wonder of all wonders, 
The soft spring winds return. 
And in the sweeping gusts of rain 
The glowing tulips burn! 

O wonder of all wonders, 

That tenderness divine. 

Bearing a woman's name, should knock 

At this poor door of mine! 



128 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXXXVL 

This is the time of the golden bough, 

The April ardour, the mystic fire. 

And the soft wind up from the South, 

Lingering, rainy, and warm. 

Dissolving sorrow and bidding new life aspire, — 

New spirit take form, — 

Through the waking green earth now. 

This is the time of the golden tress. 
The heaving heart and the shining glance, 
And the little head that bows 
Meekly to love at lasto 

Then two behold the flowery world in a trance 
Through the spring's new vast 
Of sunshine and tenderness. 

129 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXXXVII. 

When spring comes up the slope of the grey old 

sea, 
Like a green galleon, 

With joy in her wake, with light on her sails, 
What will she bring to us, my Yvonne? 

The long, sweet lisp and drench of the sweetness 

of rain, 
The strong, glad youth of the sun. 
And a touch of the madness that makes men wise 
With the wisdom of lovers, my Yvonne. 



130 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXXXVIII. 

Now spring comes up the world, sweetheart, 

What shall we find to do? 

The hills grow purple in the rain, 

The sea is gold and blue; 

The door is open to the sun, 
The window to the sky; 
The odour of the cherry bough, 
A freighted dream, goes by; 

The spruces tell the southwest wind 
Where the white windflowers are; 
The brooks are babbling in the dusk 
To one great yellow star; 



131 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

In all the April-coloured land, 
Where glints and murmurs stray, 
There's not a being that draws breath 
But will go mad to-day — 

Go mad with piercing ecstasy, 
Afoot, afloat, awing. 
And wild with all the aching sweet 
Delirium of spring. 

Now April fills the world with love, 
There's not a thing to do 
But to be happy all night long. 
Then glad the whole day through. 



I '12 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



LXXXIX. 

The rain on the roof is your laughter; 
The wind in the eaves is your sigh ; 
The sun on the hills is your gladness 
In Spring going by. 

The sea to its uttermost morning, 
Gold-fielded, unfrontiered and blue. 
Is the light and the space and the splendour 
My heart holds for you. 



133 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



xc. 

Sweetheart, sweetheart, delay no more, 
Nor in this prosy street abide! 
The fairy coach is at the door; 
The fairy ship is on the tide. 

For I have built of golden dreams, 
And furnished with delight for thee, 
And lit with wondrous starry beams, 
A fairy place over sea. 

Then, footman, up! Good horses, speed! 
Then, lads, aboard and make all sail! 
The wind is fair, the cable freed ; 
Now what can all the world avail? 



134 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XCI. 

Out of the floor of the greenish sea 

Flowers the scarlet moon, 

Thrusting the tip of her budding lip 

Through Its watery sheath In the waiting June. 

Out of the grey of forgotten things 
My heart shall arise at full, 
And illumine space to find your face 
By a love-light quiet and wonderful. 



135 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XCII. 

There's not a little boat, sweetheart, 
That dances on the tide, — 
There's not a nodding daisy-head 
In all the meadows wide, — 

In all the warm green orchards. 
Where bright birds sing and stray, 
There's not a whistling oriole 
So glad as I this day. 



136 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XCIII. 

She said, " In all the purple hills, 
Where dance the lilies blue, 
Where all day long the springing larks 
Make fairy-tales come true, 

" Where you can lie for hours and watch 
The unfathomable sky, 
There's not a breath of all the June 
That's half so glad as I ! " 



137 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XCIV. 

I saw the ships come wing by wing 
Up from the golden south with spring; 
And great w^as the treasure they had in hold 
Of food and raiment and gems and gold, 
The loot and barter of many lands 
Brought home by daring and hardy hands. 

For love is the only seed that sows 

The waste of the sea which no man knows. 

My sailing thoughts came back to me 
From faring over the great dream sea; 
And every one was laden deep 
With riches of memory to keep, 



138 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

Laughter and joy and the smooth delight 
Of the little friend and the starry night. 

For love is the only seed that sows 

The waste of the heart which no man knows. 



139 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



xcv. 

Up and up, they all come up 

Out of the noon together, 

The flowering sails on the slope of the sea 

In the white spring weather. 

In and in, they all draw in — 

A streaming flock together — 

From the lone and monstrous waste of sea 

By a single tether. 

Home, come home, they all make home 
In a racing fleet together — 
The little white wishes I sent to you 
In the golden weather. 



140 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XCVI. 

I saw you In the gloaming, love, 
When all the fleets were homing, love, 
And under the large level moon the long grey 
seas were combing, love. 

I saw you tall and splendid, love, 
And all my griefs were ended, love. 
When on me, as I put to land, your seaward 
eyes were bended, love. 

The little boats were stranded, love, 
And all their rich bales landed, love; 
But all my wealth awaited me low-voiced and 
gentle-handed, love. 



141 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XCVII. 

How unutterably lonely 
Is the vast grey round of sea, 
Till the yellow flower of heaven 
Breaks and blossoms and gets free, 
Lighting up the lilac spaces 
With her golden density! 
Hope of sailors and of lovers, 
Swings the lantern of the sea. 

Not the moon it was that lighted 

One grey waste of heart I know, 

Warmed with loving, touched with magic, 

And made molten and aglow. 

When your beauty flowered above it 

From a twilight soft and slow. 

Dearest face that still must beacon 

Where your lover still must go! 

142 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XCVIII. 

Do you know the pull of the wind on the sea? 
That is the thought of you over my heart, 
The long soft breath of the soul drawing back 

to me, 
From the desolate lone of outer space, 
At dead of night when we are apart. 

Do you know the sound of the surf on the shore, 
At the lilac close of a soft spring day? 
That is the fairy music I hear once more. 
As I remember your last farewell, 
In the blue still night when you are away. 

And the wondrous round of the moon on the hill, 
When blue dusk covers the rim of the sea? 

143 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

More desired and strange and loved and lovelier 

still 
Is the vision that comes w^ith love in her eyes — 
Your wonderful eyes — forever to me. 



144 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



XCIX. 

The fishers are saih'ng; the fleet Is away; 
The rowlocks are throbbing at break of day. 

The cables are creaking; the sails are unfurled; 
The red sun Is over the rim of the world. 

The first summer hour Is white on the hill; 
The sails in the harbour-mouth belly and fill, — 

Each boat putting out with the breast of a gull 
For the mighty great deep that shall rock them 
and lull. 



HS 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

There, there, they all pass out of sight one by 

one, — 
Gleam, dazzle, and sink in the path of the sun, — 

The last tiny speck to melt out and be free 
As a roseleaf of cloud on the rim of the sea. 



146 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



c. 



My love said, "What is the sea?" 

I said, " The unmeasured sea 

Is my heart, sweetheart, 

That is stormy or still 

With its great wild will. 

Glorying, stainless and free, 

Or sad with a sorrow beyond man's speech to 

impart, 
But for ever calling to thee. 
Heart of my heart." 

My love said, " What is the tide ? " 
I said, " The unshackled tide 
Is my love, sweetheart. 
The draft and sweep 

147 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

Of the restless deep, 

Made clean as the stars and wide, 

That forever must yearn to the land above and 

apart, 
Till the day when she sinks to his side, 
Heart of my heart." 

My love said, "What Is the land?" 

I said, " The Summer land 

Is thy face, sweetheart. 

Dreamy and warm and glad, 

In a benediction clad. 

With sunshine sweetened and tanned ; 

And there Is the set of the tide, the end and the 

start, 
The sea's despair and demand, 
Heart of my heart!" 



148 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



CI. 

The moonlight is a garden 
Upon the mountainside, 
Wherein your gleaming spirit 
All lovely and grave-eyed, 

Touched with the happy craving 
That will not be denied, 
Aforetime used to wander 
Until it reached my side. 

O wild white forest flower, 
Rose-love and lily-pride, 
And staunch of burning beauty 
Against your lover's side! 

149 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



CII. 

The lily said to the rose, 
" What will become of our pride, 
When Yvonne comes down the path ? " 
And the crimson rose replied, 

" Our beauty and pride must wane, 
Yet we shall endure to stir 
The pulse of lovers unborn 
With metaphors of her." 



150 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



cm. 

The white water-lilies, they sleep on the lake, 
Till over the mountain the sun bids them wake. 

At the rose-tinted touch of the long, level ray. 
Each pure, perfect blossom unfolds to the day. 

Each affluent petal outstretched and uncurled 
To the glory and gladness and shine of the world. 

O whiter land-lily, asleep in the dawn. 

While yet the cool curtain of stars is half drawn, 

And all the dark forest is mystic and still, 
With the great yellow planet aglow on the hill. 



151 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

Hark, somewhere among the grey beeches a 

thrush 
Sends the first thrill of sound to requicken the 

hush! 

AVith a flutter of eyelids, a sigh soft and deep, 
An unfolding of rosy warm fingers from sleep, 

For one perfect day more to love, gladden and 

roam. 
Thy spirit comes back to Its flowerlike home. 



152 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



CIV. 

What are the great stars white and blue, 
Sparkling along the twilight there? 
They are the dewy gems let fall, 
When I loosed your hair. 

What is the great pale, languorous moon 
On the floor of the sea alone? 
That is the yellow rose let fall. 
When I loosed your zone. 



153 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



cv. 

What is that spreading light far over the sea, 
In the thin cool dawn, in the wash of the summer 

air, 
When the planets pale 
And the soft winds fail, 
But Yvonne with her yellow hair? 

What is that deep, dark shine in the heart of the 

sea. 
The glory and glow and darkle and dim 

surprise, 
Melting and clear 
Beyond fathom of fear, 
But Yvonne with her smoke-blue eyes? 



154 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

What is that burning disk on the rim of the sea, 
When autumn brushfires smoulder and birds go 

South, 
When twilight fills 
The imperial hills, 
But Yvonne with her scarlet mouth? 



'55 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



CVI. 

Over the sea Is a scarlet cloud, 
And over the cloud the sun. 
And over my heart is a shining hope, 
And over that, Yvonne. 



156 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



CVII. 

What lies across my lonely bed 
Like tropic moonlight soft and pale? 
What deeper gold is that outspread 
Across my pillow like a veil? 

What sudden fragrances are these 
That voyage across the gloom to me, 
With faint delirious ecstasies 
From fairy gardens over sea? 

What rustles in the curtained dusk 
With the remembrance of a sigh, 
As if a breath of wandering air 
Should stir the poppies going by? 



157 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

Lover of beauty, can it be 
That from some far off foreign clime 
The sumptuous night has brought to thee 
The Rose of Beauty of all time? 



158 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



CVIII. 

Another day comes up, 
Wears over, and goes down ; 
And ft seems an age has passed 
In a little seaboard town. 

To one who must weary and wait 
Till the sun comes round once more, 
Before he may tap on the pane 
And lift the latch of your door. 



»59 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



CIX. 

Three things fhere be in the world, Yvonne; 
And what do you guess they mean? 
The stable land, the heaving sea, 
And the tide that hangs between. 

Three things there be in this life, Yvonne; 
And what do you guess they mean? 
Your sun-warm soul, my wind-swept soul, 
And the current that drawls between. 



1 60 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



ex. 

The first soft green of a Northern spring, 

Lit by a golden sun : 

That is the little frock you wore 

When our love was begun, 

In the house by the purple shore. 

The gold-red flush of early fall, 
And the tinge of sun on the sea: 
That is the maiden vest you wore 
When you came to my knee, 
And the firelight danced on the floor. 



i6i 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



CXI. 

Now all the twigs and grasses 
Are feathery with snow; 
The land is white and level, 
The brooks have ceased to flow. 

No song is in the woodland, 
There is no light of sun, 
But bright and warm and tender 
Is my sweetheart, Yvonne. 

The lower hills are purple, 
The farther peaks are lost; 
There's nothing left alive now, 
Except the bitter frost. 

162 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

Yes, two there be that heed not 
How cold the year may run: 
The fire upon the hearthstone, 
And my sweetheart, Yvonne. 



I<73 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



CXII. 

Our isle is a magic ship; 
You can feel it swing and dip, 
Running the long blue slopes 
Of sliding sea, 
With you and me 
The only adventurers. 

The sails of the snow are spread. 

See how we forge ahead ! 

Good-by, old summers and sorrows! 

O brave and dear 

Whom never a fear 

Of the breathless voyage deters! 



io4 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



CXIII. 

The sails of the ship are white, love; 

What are they? 

The hauling clouds, you say. 

The ropes are weather-worn, love; 

What are they? 

The strands of rain, you say. 

The lights ashore are lit, love; 

What are they? 

The beacon stars, you say. 

How shall we keep the course, love, 
By night and day? 
By a secret chart, you say. 
T65 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

But how shall we reckon true, love, 

Without time of day? 

By a tick of the heart, you say. 

And how shall we know the land, love, 

On that day? 

You smile and will not say. 



x66 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



CXIV. 

Look, where the northern streamers wave and 

fold, 
Bluish and green and gold, 

At the far corner of the quiet land, 
Moved by an unseen hand! 

Some one has drawn the curtains of the night, 
And taken away the light. 

It is so still I cannot hear a sound, 
Except the mighty bound 

Your little heart makes beating in your side. 
And the first sob of tide, 

167 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

When the sea turns from ebb far down the shore 
To his old task once more. 

O surging, stifling heart, have all your will, 
In the blue night and still! 

Love till the Hand folds up the firmament, 
And the last stars are spent! 



1 68 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



cxv. 

I do not long for fame, 

Nor triumph, nor trumpets of praise; 

I only wish my name 

To endure in the coming days, 

When men say, musing at times, 
With smiling speech and slow, 
"He was a maker of rhymes 
Yvonne loved long ago!" 



169 



i 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



CXVI. 

I know how the great and golden sun 

Will come up out of the sea, 

Stride in to shore 

And up to her door, 

To touch her hand and her hair. 

With so much more than a man can say, 

Bidding Yvonne good day. 

I know how the great and quiet moon 
Will come up out of the sea. 
And climb the hill 
To her window-sill 
And enter all silently, 
And lie on her little cot so white, 
Kissing Yvonne good night. 
1 70 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

I know how the great and countless stars 

Will come up out of the sea, 

To keep their guard 

By her still dooryard, 

Lest the soul of Yvonne should stray 

And be lost for ever there by the deep, 

In the wonderful hills of sleep. 



171 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



CXVII. 

What will the Angel of the Morning say, 

Relieving guard? 

*' Night, who hath passed thy way 

To the Palace Yard?" 

And Night will make reply, 

'' Only two springtime lovers sought 

The King's reward." 

Then will the Angel of the Morning say, 
"What said the King?" 
*' The King said nought, but smiled 
And took his ring 
And gave it to the man, 
And set him In his stead for one 
Sweet day of spring." 

172 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

Then will the Angel of the Morning say, 

With grave regard, 

" Pass, Night, and leave the gate 

For once unbarred. 

I serve the lover now; 

He shall be free of all the earth 

For his reward." 



173 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



CXVIII. 

Along the faint horizon 
I watch the first soft green, 
And for the first wild warble 
Near to the ground I lean. 

The flowers come up with colour, 
The birds come back with song, 
And from the earth are taken 
Despondency and wrong. 

Yet in the purple shadows, 
And in the warm grey rain, 
What hints of ancient sorrow 
And unremembered pain! 

174 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

O sob and flush of April, 
That still must joy and sing! 
What is the sad, wild meaning 
Under the heart of Spring? 



175 



1 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



CXIX. 

Once more the golden April; 
Gold are the willow-trees, 
And golden the soft murmur 
Of the gold-belted bees. 

All golden is the sunshine, 
And golden are the flowers. 
The golden-wing makes music 
In the long, golden hours. 

All dull gold are the marshes 
And red gold are the dunes, 
And gold the pollen dust Is 
Moting the quiet noons. 

n6 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

Even the sea's great sapphire 
Is panelled with raw gold. 
How else were spring unperished, 
A thousand ages old? 



177 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



cxx. 

Now comes the golden sunlight 
Up the glad earth once more, 
And every forest dweller 
Comes to his open door. 

And now the quiet rain-wind 
Comes from the soft grey sea, 
To haunt thy April lover 
With lonely pangs for thee! 



178 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 



CXXI. 

In the blue mystery of the April woods, 
Thy spirit now 

Makes musical the rainbird's interludes, 
And pink the peach-tree bough. 

In the new birth of all things bright and fair, 

'Tis only thou 

Art very April, glory, light and air, 

And joy and ardour now! 



?79 



AFTERSONG. 

These are the joyous songs 

The shy sea children sing, 

When the moon goes down the west, 

Soft as a pale moth wing; 

When the gnat and the bumblebee 
In the gauze of sleep are fast, 
And a fairy summer dream 
Is the only thing will last. 

These are the ever-songs 
The heart of the sea will sing. 
When ash-coloured birds are building, 
And lilac thickets ring; 



1 80 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

When June is an open road 
For every soul that stirs; 
When scarlet voices summon, 
And not a foot defers. 

These are the twilight songs 
Out of the simple North, 
Where the marchers of the night 
In silent troops go forth; 

Where Alioth sails and sails 
Forever round the pole, 
And wonder brings no sad 
Disquietude of soul. 

And all their bodily beauty 
Must flower a moment and die, 
As the rain goes down the sea-rim, 
The streamers up the sky; 



l8i 



SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN 

Till time as a falling echo 
Shall sift them over and o'er, 
And the wind between the stars 
Can tell their words no more. 

Yet the lyric beat and cry 
Which frets the poor frail things 
Shall pass from joy to joy 
Up through a thousand springs, 

Teasing the sullen years 
Out of monotony, 
As reedbirds pour their rapture 
By the unwintered sea. 



182 



Copyright, iqoi 
By Bliss Carman 

Copyright, igoj 
By Perry Mason Company 

Copyright, igoj 
By The Outlook Company 

Copyright, IQOJ 
By The Scott- Thaw Company 

Copyright, Jg04 

By L. C. Page & Company 

(incorporated) 

All rights reserved 



Published August, ig04 



COLONIAL PRESS 

Electrotyped and Printed by C. H . Simonds &' Co. 

Boston, Mass., U.S.A. 



CONTENTS 

Page 

Our Lady of the Rain i 

In a Grand Pre Garden 12 

The Keepers of Silence 27 

At Home and Abroad 3° 

Killooleet 3 5 

St. Bartholomew's on the Hill .... 39 

The Church of the Leaves 4^ 

The Deep Hollow Road 4^ 

Malyn's Daisy 4^ 

Above the Gaspereau 5° 

The Ballad of Father Hudson .... 79 

The Word at St. Kavin's 87 

Christmas Eve at St. Kavin's .... 102 



OUR LADY OF THE RAIN. 

Across the purple valleys, 
Along the misty hills, 
By murmur-haunted rivers 
And silver-gurgling rills, 
By vi^oodland, swamp and barren, 
By road and field and plain, 
Arrives the Green Enchantress, 
Our Lady of the Rain. 

Her pure and mystic planet 
Is lighted in the west; 
In ashy-rose and lilac 
Of melting evening dressed. 
With golden threads of sunset 
Inwoven in her gown, 
I 



OUR LADY OF THE RAIN 

With glamour of the springtime 
She has bewitched the town. 

Her look is soft with dreaming 

On old forgotten years; 

Her eyes are grave and tender 

With unpermitted tears; 

For she has known the sorrows 

Of all this weary earth, 

Yet ever brings it gladness, 

Retrieval and new birth. 

And when her splendid pageant, 
Sidereal and slow. 
With teeming stir and import 
Sweeps up from line to snow, 
There's not an eager mortal 
But would arise and make 
Some brave unpromised venture 
For her immortal sake. 



OUR LADY OF THE RAIN 

For no man knows what power 
Is sleeping in the seed, 
What destiny may slumber 
Within the smallest deed. 
In calm no fret can hurry, 
Nor any fear detain. 
She brings our own to meet us — 
Our Lady of the Rain. 

She saw the red clay moulded 
And quickened into man ; 
The sweetness of her spirit 
Within his pulses ran ; 
The ardour of her being 
Was in his veins like fire, 
The unreluctant passion, 
The unallayed desire. 

'Twas she who brought rejoicing 
To Babylon and Ur. 
3 



OUR LADY OF THE RAIN 

To Carthage and to Sidon 

Men came to worship her. 

Her soft spring rites were honoured 

At Argolis and Troy, 

And dark Caldean women 

Gave thanks to her for joy. 

With cheer and exaltation 

With hope for all things born, 

To hearten the disheartened, 

To solace the forlorn, 

Too gentle and all-seeing 

For judgment or disdain, 

She comes with loving kindness — 

Our Lady of the Rain. 

With magical resurgence 
For all the sons of men 
She crosses winter's frontier. 
They know not whence nor when. 
4 



OUR LADY OF THE RAIN 

Yet silently as sunlight 
Along the forest floor 
Her step is on the threshold, 
Her shadow at the door. 

On many a lonely clearing 
Among the timbered hills 
She calls across the distance, 
Until the twilight fills 
With voice of loosened waters, 
And from the marshy ground 
T(he frogs begin refilling 
Their flutes with joyous sound. 

Then note by note is lifted 
The chorus clear and shrill, 
And all who hear her summons 
Must answer to her will ; 
For she will not abandon 
The old Pandean strain 
5 



OUR LADY OF THE RAIN 

That called the world from chaos - 
Our Lady of the Rain. 

And still her wondrous music 
Comes up with early spring, 
And meadowland and woodland 
With silver wildness ring; 
The sparrow by the roadside, 
The wind among the reeds, 
Whoever hears that piping 
Must follow where it leads. 

Though no man knows the reason, 
Nor how the rumour spread, 
Through canyon-streeted cities 
Her message has been sped ; 
And some forgotten longing 
To hear a bluebird sing 
Bids folk from open windows 
Look forth — and it is spring. 
6 



OUR LADY OF THE RAIN 

Come out into the sunshine, 
You dwellers of the town, 
Put by your anxious dolors, 
And cast your sorrows down. 
O, starved and pampered people, 
How futile is your gain ! 
Behold, there comes to heal you 
Our Lady of the Rain. 

Go where the buds are breaking 
Upon the cherry bough. 
And the strong sap is mounting 
In every tree-trunk now; 
Where orchards are in blossom 
On every spray and spire, 
Go hear the orioles whistle 
And pass like flecks of fire. 

Go find the first arbutus 
Within the piney wood, 
7 



OUR LADY OF THE RAIN 

And learn from that shy dweller 
How sweet is solitude ; 
Go listen to the white-throat 
In some remote ravine 
Rehearse in tranquil patience 
His ecstasy serene. 

Go down along the beaches 

And borders of the sea, 

When golden morning kindles 

That blue immensity, 

And watch the white sails settle 

Below the curving rim 

Of this frail vast of colour, 

Diaphanous and dim. 

Go watch by brimming river 
Or reedy-marged lagoon 
The wild geese row their galley 
Across the rising moon, 
8 



OUR LADY OF THE RAIN 

That comes up like a bubble 
Out of the black fir-trees, 
And ask what mind invented 
Such miracles as these. 

Who came when we were sleeping 
And wrought this deathless lure, 
This vivid vernal wonder 
Improbable and sure? 
Where Algol and Bootes 
Mark their enormous range. 
What seraph passed in power 
To touch the world with change? 

What love's unerring purpose 
Reveals itself anew 
In these mysterious transports 
Of tone and shape and hue? 
Doubt not the selfsame impulse 
Throbs in thy restless side, 
9 



OUR LADY OF THE RAIN 

Craves at the gates of being, 
And would not be denied. 

Be thou the west wind's brother, 
And kin to bird and tree, 
The soul of spring may utter 
Her oracles to thee; 
Her breath shall give thee courage, 
Her tan shall touch thy cheek, 
The words of sainted lovers 
Be given thee to speak. 

Fear not the mighty instinct, 
The great Aprilian Creed ; 
The House of Spring is open 
And furnished for thy need. 
But fear the little wisdom, 
The paltry doubt and vain, 
And trust without misgiving 
Our Lady of the Rain, 
lo 



OUR LADY OF THE RAIN 

What foot would fail to meet her, 
And who would stay indoor, 
When April in her glory- 
Comes triumphing once more — 
When adder-tongue and tulip 
Put on their coats of gold, 
And all the world goes love-mad 
For beauty as of old? 

At every year's returning 

Tlie swallows will be here, 

The stalls be gay with jonquils, 

The dogwood reappear; 

And up from the southwestward 

Come back to us again 

With sorceries of gladness — 

Our Lady of the Rain. 



II 



IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN. 

In a garden over Grand Pre, dewy in the morning 

sun, 
Here in earliest September with the summer 

nearly done, 
Musing on the lovely world and all its beauties, 

one by one ! 

Bluets, marigolds, and asters, scarlet poppies, 

purple phlox, — 
Who knows where the key is hidden to those frail 

yet perfect locks 
In the tacit doors of being where the soul stands 

still and knocks? 

12 



IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN 

There is Blomidon's blue sea-wall, set to guard 

the turbid straits 
Where the racing tides have entry; but who 

keeps for us the gates 
In the mighty range of silence where man's spirit 

calls and waits? 

Where is Glooscaap? There's a legend of that 

saviour of the West, 
The benign one, whose all-wisdom loved beasts 

well, though men the best. 
Whom the tribes of Minas leaned on, and their 

villages had rest. 

Once the lodges were defenceless, all the warriors 

being gone 
On a hunting or adventure. Like a panther on 

a fawn. 
On the helpless stole a war-band, ambushed to 

attack at dawn. 

13 



IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN 

But with night came Glooscaap. Sleeping he sur- 
prised them; waved his bow; 

Through the summer leaves descended a great 
frost, as white as snow; 

Sealed their slumber to eternal peace and stillness 
long ago. 

Then a miracle. Among them, while still death 
undid their thews, 

Slept a captive with her children. Such the 
magic he could use, 

She arose unharmed with morning, and depart- 
ing, told the news. 

He, too, when the mighty Beaver had the country 

for his pond, 
All the way from the Pereau here to Bass River 

and bej^ond. 
Stoned the rascal ; drained the Basin ; routed out 

that vagabond. 

14 



IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN 

You can see yourself Five Islands Glooscaap 
flung at him that day, 

When from Blomidon to Sharp he tore the Bea- 
ver's dam away, — 

Cleared the channel, and the waters thundered 
out into the bay. 

(Do we idle, little children? Ah, well, there is 
hope, maybe. 

In mere beauty which enraptures just such ne'er- 
do-wells as we! 

I must go and pick my apples. Malyn will be 
calling me!) 

Here he left us — see the orchards, red and gold 

in every tree ! — 
All the land from Gaspereau to Portapique and 

Cheverie, 
All the garden lands of Minas and a passage 

out to sea. 

IS 



IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN 

You can watch the white-sailed vessels through 

the meadows wind and creep. 
All day long the pleasant sunshine, and at night 

the starry sleep, 
While the labouring tides that rest not have their 

business with the deep! 

So I get my myth and legend of a breaker-down 

of bars, 
Putting gateways in the mountains with their 

thousand-year-old scars, 
That the daring and the dauntless might steer 

outward by the stars. 

So my demiurgic hero lays a frost on all our 

fears. 
Dead the grisly superstition, dead the bigotry 

of years. 
Dead the tales that frighten children, when the 

pure white light appears. 
i6 



IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN 

Thus did Glooscaap of the mountains. What 

doth Balder of the flowers, 
Balder, the white lord of April, who comes back 

amid the showers 
And the sunshine to the Northland to revive 

this earth of ours? 

First, how came my garden, where untimely not 

a leaf may wilt? 
For a thousand years the currents trenched the 

rock and wheeled the silt, 
Dredged and filled and smoothed and levelled, 

toiling that it might be built. 

For the moon pulled and the sun pushed on the 
derrick of the tide; 

And a great wind heaved and blustered, — swung 
the weight round with a stride, 

Mining tons of red detritus out of the old moun- 
tain side, — 

17 



IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN 

Bore them down and laid them even by the mouth 

of stream and rill 
For the quiet lowly doorstep, for cemented joist 

and sill 
Of our Grand Pre, where the cattle lead their 

shadows or lie still. 

So my garden floor was founded by the labour- 
ing frugal sea. 

Deep and virginal as Eden, for the flowers that 
were to be. 

All for my great drowsy poppies and my mari- 
golds and me. 

Who had guessed the unsubstantial end and out- 
come of such toil, — 

These, the children of a summer, whom a breath 
of frost would foil, 

I, almost as faint and fleeting as my brothers of 
the soil? 

i8 



IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN 

Did those vague and drafty sea-tides, as they 

journeyed, feel the surge 
Of the prisoned life that filled them seven times 

full from verge to verge. 
Mounting to some far achievement where its 

ardour might emerge? 

Are they blinder of a purpose in their courses 

fixed and sure, 
Those sea arteries whose heavings throb through 

Nature's vestiture, 
Than my heart's frail valves and hinges which 

so perilously endure? 

Do I say to it, " Give over! " — Can I will, and 
it will cease? 

Nay, it stops but with destruction ; knows no res- 
pite nor release. 

I, who did not start its pulses, cannot bid them 
be at peace. 

19 



IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN 

Thus the great deep, framed and fashioned to 
a thought beyond its own, 

Rocked by tides that race or sleep without its 
will from zone to zone, 

Setting door-stones for a people in a century un- 
known, 

Sifted for me and my popples the red earth we 

love so well. 
Gently there, my fine logician, brooding In your 

lone grey cell! 
Was it all for our contentment such a miracle 

befell? 

No; because my drowsy popples and my mari- 
golds and I 

Have this human need In common, nodding as 
the wind goes by ; 

There Is that supreme within us no one life can 
satisfy. 

20 



IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN 

With their innocent grave faces lifted up to meet 
my own, 

They are but the stranger people, swarthy chil- 
dren of the sun, 

Gypsies tenting at our door to vanish ere the 
year is done. 

(How we idle, little children! Still our best of 
tasks may be. 

From distraction and from discord without base- 
ness to get free. 

I must go and pick my apples. Malyn will be 
calling me!) 

Humbly, then, most humbly ever, little brothers 

of the grass. 
With Aloha at your doorways I salute you as 

you pass, 
I who wear the mortal vesture, as our custom 

ever was. 

21 



IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN 

Known for kindred by the habit, by the tanned 

and crimson stain, 
Earthlings in the garb ensanguined just so long 

as we remain, 
You for days and I for seasons mystics by the 

common strain, 

Till we tread the virgin threshold of a great moon 

red and low. 
Clean and joyous while we tarry, and uncraven 

when we go 
From the rooftree of the rain-wind and the 

broad eaves of the snow. 

And this thing called life, which frets us like a 

fever without name. 
Soul of man and seed of poppy no mortality can 

tame. 
Smouldering at the core of beauty till it breaks in 

perfect flame, — 

22 



IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN 

What it is I know not; only I know they and 
I are one, 

By the lure that bids us linger in the great House 
of the Sun, 

By the fervour that sustains us at the door we can- 
not shun. 

From a little wider prospect, I survey their bright 
domain ; 

On a rounder dim horizon, I behold the plough- 
man rain ; 

All I have and hold so lightly, they will perish to 
attain. 

Waking at the word of April with the South 

Wind at her heels, 
We await the revelation locked beneath the four 

great seals. 
Ice and snow and dark and silence, where the 

Northern search-light wheels. 
23 



IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN 

Waiting till our Brother Balder walks the lovely 

earth once more, 
With the robin in the fir-top, with the rain-wind 

at the door. 
With the old unwearied gladness to revive us and 

restore. 

We abide the raptured moment, with the patience 

of a stone, 
Like ephemera our kindred, transmigrant from 

zone to zone. 
To that last fine state of being where they live 

on joy alone. 

O great Glooscaap and kind Balder, born of 

human heart's desire. 
When earth's need took shape and substance, and 

the impulse to aspire 
Passed among the new-made peoples, touching the 

red clay with fire, 

24 



IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN 

By the myth and might of beauty, lead us and 

allure us still, 
Past the open door of wonder and oblivion's 

granite sill, 
Past the curtain of the sunset in the portals of the 

hill, 

To new provinces of wisdom, sailless latitudes cf 

soul. 
I for one must keep the splendid faith in good 

your lives extol, 
Well assured the love you lived by is my being's 

source and goal. 

Fearless when the will bids " Venture," or the 

sleepless mind bids " Know," 
Here among my lowly neighbours blameless let 

me come and go. 
Till I, too, receive the summons to the silent 

Tents of Snow. 

25 



IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN 

In a garden over Grand Pre, bathed in the seren- 
ity 

Of the early autumn sunlight, came these quiet 
thoughts to me. 

While the wind went down the orchard to the 
dikes and out to sea. 

(Idling yetf My flowery children, only far too 

well I see 
How this day will glow forever in fny life that 

is to be! 
I must go and pick my apples. There is Malyn 

calling me!) 



26 



THE KEEPERS OF SILENCE 

My hillside garden half-way up 
The mountains from the purple sea, 
Beholds the pomp of days go by 
In summer's gorgeous pageantry. 

I watch the shadows of the clouds 
Stream over Grand Pre in the sun, 
And the white fog seethe up and spill 
Over the rim of Blomidon. 

For past the mountains to the North, 
Like a great caldron of the tides, 
Is Fundy, boiling round their base. 
And ever fuming up their sides. 

27 



THE KEEPERS OF SILENCE 

Yet here within my valley world 
No breath of all that tumult stirs; 
The little orchards sleep in peace; 
Forever dream the dark blue firs. 

And while far up the gorges sweep 
The silver legions of the showers, 
I have communion with the grass 
And conversation with the flowers. 

More wonderful than human speech 
Their dialect of silence is, 
The simple Dorian of the fields, 
So full of homely subtleties. 

When the dark pansies nod to say 
Good morning to the marigolds, 
Their velvet taciturnity 
Reveals as much as it withholds„ 



28 



THE KEEPERS OF SILENCE 

I always half expect to hear 
Some hint of what they mean to do ; 
But never is their fine reserve 
Betrayed beyond a smile or two. 

Yet very well at times I seem 
To understand their reticence, 
And so, long since, I came to love 
My little brothers by the fence. 

Perhaps some August afternoon. 
When earth is only half-aware, 
They will unlock their heart for once. 
How sad if I should not be there! 



29 



AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

My modest Northern garden 
Is full of yellow flowers, 
And quaking leaves and sunlight 
And long noon hours. 

It hangs upon the hillside 
Above the little town ; 
And there in pleasant weather 
You can look far down, 

To the broad dikes of Grand Pre 
Roamed over by the herds, 
And the purple Minas water 
Where fish the white sea-birds. 



30 



AT HOME AND ABROAD 

I watch the little vessels, 
Where the slow rivers glide 
Between the grassy orchards. 
Come in upon the tide. 

For daily there accomplished 
Is the sea's legerdemain. 
To fill the land with rivers 
And empty it again. 

Before j^ou lies North Mountain, 
Built like a long sea-wall — 
A wonder in blue summer 
And in the crimson fall. 

The sea-fogs cloud and mantle 
Along its fir-dark crest, 
While under it the fruit-lands 
Have shelter and have rest. 



31 



AT HOME AND ABROAD 



And when the goblin moonlight 
Loiters upon her round 
Of valley, marsh and mountain 
To bless my garden-ground, — 

(The harvest moon that lingers 
Until her task is done, 
And all the grain is ripened 
For her great lord, the sun,) 

I know that there due northward, 
Under the polar star. 
Sir Blomidon is fronting 
Whatever stornjs there are. 

I cannot see those features 
I love so well by day. 
Calmed by a thousand summers, 
Scarred by the winter's play; 



32 



AT HOME AND ABROAD 

Yet there above the battle 
Of the relentless tides, 
Under the solemn starlight 
He muses and abides. 

And in the magic stillness, 
The moonlight's ghostly gleam 
Makes me its sylvan brother, 
To rove the world a-dream. 

That wa5rvvard and oblivious 
Mortal I seem to be 
Shall habit not forever 
This garden by the sea. 

Not Blomidon nor Grand Pre 
Shall be his lasting home, 
Nor all the Ardise country 
Give room enough to roam. 



33 



AT HOME AND ABROAD 

Even to-night a little 
He strays, and will not bide 
The gossip of the flowers, 
The rumour of the tide. 

He must be forth and seeking, 
Beyond this garden-ground, 
The arm-in-arm companion 
For whom the sun goes round. 

And in the soft May weather 
I walk with you again, 
Where the terraces of Meudon 
Look down upon the Seine. 



34 



KILLOOLEET. 

There's a wonderful woodland singer 
In the North, called Killooleet, — 
That is to say Little Sweetvoice 
In the tongue of the Milicete, 

The tribe of the upper Wolaastook, 
Who range that waterway 
From the blue fir hills of its sources 
To the fogs and tides of the bay. 

All day long in the sunshine, 
All night long through the rains, 
On the grey wet cedar barrens 
And the lonely blueberry plains, 



35 



KILLOOLEET 



You may hear Killooleet singing, 

Hear his O sweet 

(Then a grace-note, then the full cadence), 

Killooleet, Killooleet, Killooleet! 

Whenever you dip a paddle, 
Or set a pole in the stream, 
Killooleet marks the ripple, 
Killooleet knows the gleam; 

Killooleet gives you welcome, 
Killooleet makes you free 
With the great sweet wilderness freedom 
That holds over land and sea. 

You may slide your birch through the alders, 
Or camp where the rapids brawl, 
The first glad forest greeting 
Will still be Killooleet's call. 



36 



KILLOOLEET 



Wherever you drive a tent-pin, 
Or kindle a fire at night, 
Killooleet comes to the ridge-pole, 
Killooleet answers the light. 

The dark may silence the warblers; 
The heavy and thunderous hush 
That comes before storm may stifle 
The pure cool notes of the thrush; 

The waning season may sober 
Bobolink, bluebird, and quail ; 
But Killooleet's stainless transport 
Will not diminish nor fail. 

Henceforth you shall love and fear not, 
Remembering Killooleet's song 
Haunting the wild waste places, 
Deliberate, tranquil, and strong; 



37 



KILLOOLEET 



And so you shall come without cunning, 
But wise in the simpler lore, 
To the House of the Little Brothers, 
And God will open the door. 



38 



ST. BARTHOLOMEW'S ON 
THE HILL. 

" Bartholomew with his cold dew.** 

Bartholomew, my brother, 
I like your roomy church ; 
I like your way of leaving 
No sinners in the lurch. 

I wish the world were wealthy 
In ministers like you. 
When at the lovely August 
You give the blessed dew. 

I love your rambling Abbey, 
So long ago begun. 
Whose choirs are in the tree-tops, 
Whose censer is the sun. 
39 



ST. BARTHOLOMEW S ON THE HILL 

Its windows are the morning; 
Its rafters are the stars; 
The fog-banks float like incense 
Up from its purple floors. 

And where the ruddy apples 
Make lamps in the green gloom, 
The flowers in congregation 
Are never pressed for room ; 

But in your hillside chapel, 
Gay with its gorgeous paints. 
They bow before the Presence, — 
Sweet merry little saints! 



40 



THE CHURCH OF THE 
LEAVES. 

In French Canadian legendry, 
A rising from the dead recurs 
Each Christmastide. The old cure. 
With his parishioners 

Around him, in the night returns; 
And while his voice renews its bond 
In the beloved offices, 
The ghostly flock respond. 

Just so, we keep the forms of faith 
That wrought and moved us long ago; 
We mark the height man's soul attained. 
Forgetting it must grow. 
41 



THE CHURCH OF THE LEAVES 

Those venerable outgrown shells 
Wherefrom the radiant life is fled, — 
We wrong with our idolatry 
The dogmas of the dead. 

But He who walked with the world-soul 
At twilight in Gethsemane, 
Breathing among the listening boughs 
Sweet prayers of charity, 

Must daily with the wind return 
About the dim world, to renew 
The trembling litanies of the leaves, 
The blessings of the dew. 

He must revive with wind-sweet voice 
The gospel hardly known to flesh. 
Till the same spirit speaks again, 
Interpreting afresh; 



42 



THE CHURCH OF THE LEAVES 

Till the vast house of trees and air 
Reverberates from roof to floor 
With meanings of mysterious things 
We need to ask no more. 

For still He walks these shadowy aisles, 
Dreaming of beauties still to be, 
More manly than our manliest, 
Whose thought and love were free. 

The pines are all His organ pipes. 
And the great rivers are His choir; 
And creatures of the field and tide 
That reck not, yet aspire. 

Our brothers of the tardy hope. 
Put forth their strength in senses dim. 
Threading the vast, they know not why, 
Through eons up to Him. 



43 



THE CHURCH OF THE LEAVES 

I see Him in the orchard glooms, 
Watching the russet apples tan, 
With the serene regard of one 
Who is more God than man. 

And where the silent valley leads 
The small white water through the hills, 
And the black spruces stand unmoved, 
And quiet sunlight fills 

The world and time with large slow peace. 
It is His patience waiting there 
Response from lives whose breath is but 
The echo of His prayer. 

Brother of Nazareth, behold, 
We, too, perceive this life expand 
Beyond the daily need, for use 
Thy thought must understand. 



44 



THE CHURCH OF THE LEAVES 

Not for ourselves alone we strive, 
Since Thy perfection manifest 
Bids self resign what self desired, 
Postponing good for best. 

And in the far unfretted years, 
The generations we uphold 
Shall reach the measure of Tliy heart. 
The stature of Thy mould. 



45 



THE DEEP HOLLOW ROAD. 

Cool in the summer mountain's heart, 
It lies in dim mysterious shade, 
Left of the highway turning in 
With grassy rut and easy grade. 

The marshes and the sea behind, 
The solemn fir-blue hills before; 
Here is the inn for Heavy-heart 
And this is weary Free-foot's door. 

O fellow^s, I have known it long; 
For joy of life turn in with me; 
We bivouac with peace to-night. 
And good-bye to the brawling sea. 



46 



THE DEEP HOLLOW ROAD 

You hear? That's master thrush. He knows 
The voluntaries fit for June, 
And when to falter on the flute 
In the satiety of noon. 

A mile or two we follow in 
This rosy streak through forest gloom, 
Then for the ample orchard slopes 
And all the earth one snowy bloom! 



47 



MALYN'S DAISY. 

You know it. Rays of ashy blue 
Around a centre small and golden, 
An autumn face of cheery hue 
And fashion olden. 

When the year rests at Michaelmas 
Before the leaves must vanish faster, 
The country people see it pass 
And call it aster. 

It does not come with joy and June; 
It knows God's time is sometimes tardy; 
And waits until we need the boon 
Of spirit hardy. 



48 



MALYNS DAISY 



So unobtrusive, yet so fair, 
About a world it makes so human, 
Its touch of grace is everywhere — 
Just like a woman. 

Along the road and up the dike 
It wanders when the noons are hazy, 
To tell us what content is like ; 
That's Malyn's daisy. 



49 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU. 

TO H. E. C. 

There are sunflowers too in my garden on top 
of the hill, 

Where now in early September the sun has his 
will, — 

The slow autumn sun that goes leisurely, taking 
his fill 

Of life in the orchards and fir woods so moveless 
and still ; 

As if, should they stir, they might break some illu- 
sion and spill 

The store of their long summer musing on top of 
the hill. 



50 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

The crowds of black spruces in tiers from the val- 
ley below, 

Ranged round their sky-roofed coliseum, mount 
row after row. 

How often there, rank above rank, they have 
watched for the slow 

Silver-lanterned processions of twilight, — the 
moon's come and go! 

How often as if they expected some bugle to 
blow. 

Announcing a bringer of news they were breath- 
less to know. 

They have hushed every leaf, — to hear only the 
murmurous flow 

Of the small mountain river sent up from the 
valley below! 

How still through the sweet summer sun, through 
the soft summer rain, 



51 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

They have stood there awaiting the summons 
should bid them attain 

The freedom of knowledge, the last touch of 
truth to explain 

The great golden gist of their brooding, the mar- 
vellous train 

Of thought they have followed so far, been so 
strong to sustain, — 

The bright gospel of sun and the pure revelations 
of rain! 

Then the orchards that dot, all in order, the green 

valley floor. 
Every tree with its boughs weighed to earth, like 

a tent from whose door 
Not a lodger looks forth, — yet the signs are there 

gay and galore, 
The great ropes of red fruitage and russet, crisp 

snow to the core. 



52 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

Can the dark-eyed Romany here have deserted 

of yore 
Their camp at the coming of frost? Will they 

seek it no more? 
Who dwells in St. Eulalie's village? Who 

knows the fine lore 
Of the tribes of the apple-trees there on the green 

valley floor? 

Who, indeed? From the blue mountain gorge 

to the dikes by the sea, 
Goes that stilly wanderer, small Gaspereau ; who 

but he 
Should give the last hint of perfection, the touch 

that sets free 
From the taut string of silence the whisper of 

beauties to be! 
The very sun seems to have tarried, turned back 

a degree, 



S3 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

To lengthen out noon for the apple-folk here by 
the sea. 

What Is It ? Who comes ? What's abroad on the 

blue mountainside? 
A hush has been laid on the leaves and will not 

be defied. 
Is the great Scarlet Hunter at last setting out on 

his ride 
From the North with deliverance now? Were 

the lights we descried 
Last night in the heavens his camp-fires seen far 

and wide, 
The white signal of peace for whose coming the 

ages have cried ? 
" Expectancy lingers; fulfilment postponed," I 

replied, 
When soul said uneasily, " Who is it haunts your 

hillside?" 



54 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

All the while not a word from my sunflowers 

here on the hill. 
And to-night when the stars over Blomidon 

flower and fill 
The blue Northern garden of heaven, so pale and 

so still, 
From the lordly king-aster Aldebaran there by 

the sill 
Of the East, where the moonlight will enter, not 

one will fulfil 
A lordlier lot than my sunflowers here on the 

hill. 

So much for mere fact, mere impression. So 

much I portray 
Of the atmosphere, colour, illusion of one 

autumn day, 
In the little Acadian village above the Grand 

Pre; 



55 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

Just the quiet of orchards and firs, where the 

sun had full sway, 
And the river went trolling his soft wander-song 

to the bay, 
While roseberry, aster, and sagaban tangled his 

way. 
Be you their interpreter, reasoner; tell what they 

say, 
These children of silence whose patient regard 

I portray. 

You Londoner, walking in Bishopsgate, stroll- 
ing the Strand, 

Some morning in autumn afford, at a fruit- 
dealer's stand, 

The leisure to look at his apples there ruddy and 
tanned. 

Then ask, w^hen he's smiling to serve you, if 
choice can command 



S6 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

A Gravenstei'n grown oversea on Canadian land. 
(And just for the whim's sake, for once, you'll 

have no other brand!) 
How teach )^ou to tell them? Pick one, and 

with that in your hand, 
Bethink you awhile as you turn again into the 

Strand. 

"What if," you will say, — so smooth in your 

hand it will lie. 
So round and so firm, of so rich a red to the eye, 
Like a dash of Fortuny, a tinge of some Indian 

dye, 
While you turn it and toss, mark the bloom, ere 

you taste it and try, — 
" Now what if this grew where the same bright 

pavilion of sky 
Is stretched o'er the valley and hillside he bids 

me descry, 



57 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

The windless valley of peace, where the seasons 

go by, 
And the river goes down through the orchards 

where long shadows lie! " 

There's the fruit in your hand, in your ears is 
the roar of the street, 

The pulse of an empire keeping its volume and 
beat. 

Its sure come and go day and night, while we 
sleep or we eat. 

Taste the apple, bite in to the juice; how abun- 
dant and sweet ! 

As sound as your own English heart, and whole- 
some as wheat. 

There grow no such apples as that in your 
Bishopsgate street. 

Or perhaps in St. Helen's Place, when your 
business is done 

58 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

And the ledgers put by, you will think of the 

hundred and one 
Commissions and errands to do ; but what under 

the sun 
Was that, so important? Ah, yes! the new- 
books overrun 
The old shelves. It is high time to order a new 

set begun. 
Then off to the joiner's. You enter to see his 

plane run 
With a long high shriek through the lumber he's 

working upon. 
Then he turns from his shavings to query what 

you would have done. 

But homeward 'tis you who make question. That 

song of the blade! 
And the sharp sweet cry of the wood, what an 

answer it made! 



59 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

What stories the joiner must hear, as he plies 
his clean trade, 

Of all the wild life of the forest where long 
shadows wade 

The untrodden moss, and the firs send a journey- 
ing shade 

So slow through the valley so far from the song 
of his blade. 

Come back to my orchards a moment. They're 

waiting for you. 
How still are the little grey leaves where the 

pippins peep through! 
The boughs where the ribstons hang red are 

half-breaking in two. 
Above them September in magical soft Northern 

blue 
Has woven the spell of her silence, like frost or 

like dew, 



60 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

Yet warm as a poppy's red dream. When All 
Saints shall renew 

The beauty of summer awhile, will their dream- 
ing come true? 

Ah, not of my Grand Pre they dream, nor your 
London and you! 

Their life is their own, and the surge of it. All 

through the spring 
They pushed forth their buds, and the rainbirds 

at twilight would sing. 
They put forth their bloom, and the world was as 

fairy a thing 
As a Japanese garden. Then midsummer came 

with a zing 
And the clack of the locust; then fruit-time and 

coolness, to bring 
This aftermath deep underfoot with its velvety 

spring. 



6i 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

And they all the while with the fatherly, 

motherly care, 
Taking sap from the strength of the ground, 

taking sun from the air, 
Taking chance of the frost and the worm, taking 

courage to dare. 
Have given their life that the life might be 

goodly and fair 
In their kind for the seasons to come, with 

good witness to bear 
How the sturdy old race of the apples could 

give and not spare. 
To-morrow the harvest begins. We shall rifle 

them there 
Of the beautiful fruit of their bodies, the crown 

of their care. 

How lovingly then shall the picker set hand to 
the bough ! — 



62 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

Bid it yield, ere the seed come to earth or the 

graft to the plough, 
Not only sweet life for its kind, as the instincts 

allow. 
That savour and shape may survive generations 

from now. 
But life to its kin who can say, " I am stronger 

than thou," — 
Fulfilling a lordlier law than the law of the 

bough. 

I heard before dawn, with planets beginning to 

quail, — 
" Whoso hath life, let him give, that my purpose 

prevail : 
Whoso hath none, let him take, that his strength 

may be hale. 
Behold, T have reckoned the tally, I keep the 

full tale. 



63 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

Whoso hath love, let him give, lest his spirit 

grow stale; 
Whoso hath none, let him die; he shall whither 

and fail. 
Behold I will plenish the loss at the turn of the 

scale. 
He hath law to himself, who hath love; ye shall 

hope and not quail." 

Then the sun arose, and my sunflowers here on 
the hill. 

In free ceremonial turned to the East to fulfil 

Their daily observance, receiving his peace and 
his will, — 

The lord of their light who alone bids the dark- 
ness be nil, 

The lord of their love who alone bids the life in 
them thrill; 

Undismayed and serene, they awaited him here 
on the hill. 

64 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

Ah, the patience of earth! Look down at the 

dark pointed firs; 
They are carved out of blackness; one pattern 

recurs and recurs. 
They crowd all the gullies and hillsides, the 

gashes and spurs, 
As silent as death. What an image! How 

nature avers 
The goodness of calm with that taciturn beauty 

of hers! 
As silent as sleep. Yet the life in them climbs 

and upstirs. 
They too have received the great law, know 

that haste but defers 
The perfection of time, — the initiate gospeller 

firs. 

So year after year, slow ring upon ring, they 
have grown. 



^^ 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

Putting infinite long-loving care into leafage 

and cone, 
By the old ancient craft of the earth they have 

pondered and known 
In the dead of the hot summer noons, as still 

as a stone. 
Not for them the gay fruit of the thorn, nor the 

high scarlet roan. 
Nor the plots of the deep orchard-land where 

the apples are grown. 

In winter the wind, all huddled and shuddering, 

came 
To warm his old bones by the fires of sunset 

aflame 
Behind the black house of the firs. When the 

moose-birds grew tame 
In the lumberer's camps in the woods, what 

marvellous fame 



66 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

His talk and the ice of his touch would spread 

and proclaim, 
Of the berg and the floe of the lands without 

nation or name, 
Where the earth and the sky, night and noon, 

north and south are the same, 
The white and awful Nirvana of cold whence 

he came! 

Then April, some twilight picked out with a great 

yellow star, 
Returning, like Hylas long lost and come back 

with his jar 
Of sweet living water at last, having wandered 

so far. 
Leads the heart out-of-doors, and the eye to the 

point of a spar, 
At whose base in the half-melted snow the first 

Mayflowers are, — 



^1 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

And there the first robin Is pealing below the 
great star. 

So soon, oversoon, the full summer. Within 

those dark boughs, 
Deliberate and far, a faltering reed-note will 

rouse 
The shy transports of earth, till the wood-crea- 
tures hear where they house. 
And grow bold as the tremble-eared rabbits that 

nibble and mouse. 
While up through the pasture-lot, startling the 

sheep as they browse. 
Where kingbirds and warblers are piercing the 

heat's golden drowse. 
Some girl, whom the sun has made tawny, the 

wind had to blowse. 
Will come there to gentle her lover beneath 

those dark boughs. 



68 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

Then out of the hush, when the grasses are 

frosty and old, 
Will the chickadee's tiny alarm against winter 

be rolled; 
And soon, when the ledges and ponds are bitten 

with cold. 
The honk of the geese, that wander-cry stirring 

and bold, 
Will sound through the night, where those hardy 

mariners hold 
The uncharted course through the dark, as it 

is from of old. 

Ah, the life of the woods, how they share and 
partake of it all. 

These evergreens, silent as Indians, solemn and 
tall! 

From the goldenwing's first far-heard awaken- 
ing call, 



69 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

The serene flute of the thrush in his high beech 
hall, 

And the pipe of the frog, to the bannered ap- 
proach of the fall, 

And the sullen wind, when snow arrives on a 
squall. 

Trooping in all night from the North with news 
would appal 

Any outposts but these; with a zest they partake 
of it all. 

Lo, out of the hush they seem to mount and 

aspire ! 
From basement to tip they have builded, with 

heed to go higher, 
One circlet of branches a year with their lift of 

green spire. 
Nay, rather they seem to repose, having done 

with desire, 



70 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

Awaiting the frost, with the fruit scarlet-bright 

on the briar, 
Each purpose fulfilled, each ardour that bade 

them aspire. 

Then hate be afar from the bite of the axe that 

shall fell 
These keepers of solitude, makers of quiet, who 

dwell 
On the slopes of the North. And clean be the 

hand that shall quell 
The tread of the sap that was wont to go mount- 
ing so well. 
Round on round with the sun in a spiral, slow 

cell after cell, 
As a bell-ringer climbs in a turret. That resinous 

smell 
From the eighth angel's hand might have risen 

with the incense to swell 



71 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

His offering in heaven, when the half-hour's si- 
lence befell. 

Behold, as the prayers of the saints that went 

up to God's knees 
In John's Revelation, the silence and patience 

of these 
Our brothers of orchard and hill, the unhurry- 

ing trees, 
To better the burden of earth till the dark suns 

freeze, 
Shall go out to the stars with the sound of 

Acadian seas. 
And the scent of the wood-flowers blowing about 

their great knees. 

To-night when Altair and Alshain are ruling 
the West, 

Whence Bootes is driving his dogs to long hunt- 
ing addressed; 

72 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

With Alioth plumb over Blomldon standing 

at rest; 
When Algol is leading the Pleiades over the 

crest 
Of the magical East, and the South puts Al- 

pherat to test 
With Menkar just risen ; will come, like a sigh 

from Earth's breast, 
The first sob of the tide turning home, — one 

distraught in his quest 
Forever, and calling forever the wind in the 

west. 

And to-night there will answer the ghost of a 
sigh on the hill, 

So small you would say. Is it wind, or the frost 
with a will 

Walking down through the woods, w^ho to- 
morrow shall show us his skill 



73 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

In yellows and reds? So noiseless, It hardly 

will thrill 
The timorous aspens, which tremble when all 

else is still; 
Yet the orchards will know, and the firs aware 

on the hill. 

" O Night, I am old, I endure. Since my be- 
ing began, 

When out of the dark the aurora spread up like 
a fan, 

I have founded the lands and the islands; the 
hills are my plan. 

I have covered the pits of the earth with my 
bridge of one span. 

From the Horn to Dunedin unbroken my long 
rollers ran. 

From Pentland and Fastnet and Feyle to Bras 
d'Or and Manan, 



74 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

To dredge and upbuild for the creatures of tribe 

and of clan. 
Lo, now who shall end the contriving my fingers 

began? " 

Then the little wind that blows from the great 

star-drift 
Will answer, " Thou tide in the least of the 

planets I lift, 
Considers the journeys of light. Are thy journey- 

ings swift? 
Thy sands are as smoke to the star-banks I 

huddle and shift. 
Peace! I have seeds of the grasses to scatter 

and sift. 
I have freighting to do for the weed and the 

frail thistle drift. 

" O ye apples and firs, great and small are 
as one in the end. 

75 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

Because ye had life to the full, and spared not 

to spend; 
Because ye had love of your kind, to cherish and 

fend; 
Held hard the good Instinct to thrive, cleaving 

close to life's trend ; 
Nor questioned where Impulse had origin, — pur- 
pose might tend ; 
Now, beauty is yours, and the freedom whose 

promptings transcend 
Attainment forever, through death with new 

being to blend. 
O ye orchards and woods, death Is naught, love 

Is all In the end." 

Ah, friend of mine over the sea, shall we not 

discern. 
In the life of our brother the beech and our 

sister the fern, 



76 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

As St. Francis would call them (his Minorites, 

too, would we learn!), 
In death but a door to new being no creature 

may spurn. 
But must enter for beauty's completion, — pass 

up in his turn 
To the last round of joy, yours and mine, whence 

to think and discern? 

Who shall say " the last round? " Have I passed 

by the exit of soul ? 
From behind the tall door that swings outward, 

replies no patrol 
To our restless Qui vivef when is paid each 

implacable toll. 
Not a fin of the tribes shall return, having cleared 

the great shoal; 
Not a wing of the migrants come back from 

below the dark knoll; 



77 



ABOVE THE GASPEREAU 

Yet the zest of the flight and the swimming who 

fails to extol? 
Saith the Riddle, "The parts are all plain; 

ye may guess at the whole." 
I guess, " Immortality, knowledge, survival of 

Soul." 

To-night, with the orchards below and the firs 
on the hill 

Asleep in the long solemn moonlight and taking 
no ill, 

A hand will open the sluice of the great sea- 
mill, — 

Start the gear and the belts of the tide. Then 
a murmur will fill 

The hollow^s of midnight with sound, when all 
else is still, 

A promise to hearten my sunflowers here on the 
hill. 



78 



THE BALLAD OF FATHER 
HUDSON. 

You may doubt, but I heard the story 
Just as I tell it to you; 
And whatever you think of the setting, 
I believe the substance true. 

The great North Seaboard Province, 
From Fundy to Chaleurs, 
Is a country of many waters 
And sombre hills of fir. 

Where the moose still treads his snow-yard, 
Breaking his paths to browse, 
Where the caribou rove the barrens, 
And the bear and the beaver house; 

79 



THE BALLAD OF FATHER HUDSON 

Where Killooleet sings from the ridge-pole 
All through the night and the rain, 
When the great blue Northern Summer 
Comes back to the wilds again. 

In that land of many rivers, 
Bogan and lake and stream, 
You may follow the trail in the water 
With the paddle's bend and gleam, 

Where the canoe, like a shadow 
Among the shadows, slips 
Under the quiet alders 
And over the babbling rips; 

You may go for a week together, 
Reading footmark and trace 
Of the wild shy woodland creatures. 
Ere you meet a human face. 



80 



THE BALLAD OF FATHER HUDSON 

There where the Loyalists came 

And the houses of men were few, 

Little was all their wealth 

And great were the hardships they knew; 

But greater the hardy faith 
They kept unflinching and fine, 
And chose to be naught in the world 
For the pride of a loyal line. 

And there came Father Hudson, 
As I've heard my father tell, 
To serve the wilderness missions, 
With sound of a Sunday bell. 

Sober he was and a toiler. 
Cared not for ease nor place; 
They speak of his humour, too, 
And the long droll shaven face. 



8i 



THE BALLAD OF FATHER HUDSON 

Labour he did, and spared not, 
In that vineyard wild and rough, 
And often was sore with travel, 
And often hungry enough. 

Doubt not, as he carried the word 
By portage and stream and trail, 
That still in the mind of his people 
The fire of truth should prevail. 

And once was a church to build, 
Little, lonely, apart. 
Hardly more than a token 
In the forest's great green heart. 

With his own hands he reared it. 
And often was wet to the hide. 
And often slept on the shavings 
Till the birds sang outside ; 



82 



THE BALLAD OF FATHER HUDSON 

Then up In the fragrant morning, 
And back to hammer and saw, 
Building into the timbers 
Love and devotion and awe. 

So the fair summer went by, 
And the church was finished at last; 
But Father Hudson was called 
To a country still more vast. 

In the land of the creaking snowshoe 
And the single track in the snow, 
There's many a thing of wonder 
No man will ever know. 

It happened about the feast 

Of the blessed Nativity, 

When the snow lay heavy and silent 

On every bending tree. 



83 



THE BALLAD OF FATHER HUDSON 

When the great north lights were stalking 
Through the purple solitude, 
Father Hudson's successor 
Passed by the church in the wood. 

And it came to his mind to ponder 
What the requital may be 
Of toil that is done in the body, 
When the soul is at last set free; 

And whether the flame of fervour 
That is quenched in service here. 
Survives through self-surrender 
To illumine another sphere. 

Then he saw the place all lighted, 
Though it was not the hour of prayer, 
And the strains of a triumphing organ 
Came to him on the air. 



84 



THE BALLAD OF FATHER HUDSON 

In amazement he turned aside. 
Who could the player be? 
And who had lighted the lights? 
The door still fast, the key 

On its nail in the little porch! 
He turned, put one foot on the sill, 
Unlocked, opened, and entered. 
The church was dark and still! 

The white-robed spruces around it 
Stood still with never a word ; 
The sifting snow at the w^indow 
Was all the good man heard. 

Verily, Father Hudson, 
Strong was thy sturdy creed. 
But stronger and more enduring 
The humble and holy deed. 



8s 



THE BALLAD OF FATHER HUDSON 

Which SO could enthral the senses 
And lend the spirit sight 
To behold the glory of labour 
And love's availing might. 

O brave are the single-hearted 
Who deal v^^ith this life, and dare 
To live by the inward vision, — 
In the soul's native air. 



86 



THE WORD AT ST. KAVIN'S. 

Once at St. Kavin's door 

I rested. No sign more 

Of discontent escaped me irom that day. 

For there I overheard 

A Brother of the Word 

Expound the grace of poverty, and say: 

Thank God for poverty 
That makes and keeps us free, 
That lets us go our unobtrusive way, 
Glad of the sun and rain, 
Upright, serene, humane, 
Contented with the fortune of a day, 

87 



THEWORDATST. KAVIN S 

Light-hearted as a bird, 
I will obey the word 

That bade the earth take form, the sea subside, — 
That bids the wild wings go 
Each year from line to snow. 
When Spring unfurls her old green flag for 
guide, — 

That bids the fleeting hosts 

Along the shelving coasts 

Once more adventure far by sound and stream, — 

Bids everything alive 

Awaken and revive, — 

Resume the unperished glory and the dream. 

I too, with fear put by. 
Confront my destiny, 
With not a wish but to arise and go, 
WTiere beauty still may lead 
From creed to larger creed, 
Thanking my Maker that he made me so. 

88 



THE WORD AT ST. KAVIN S 

For I would shun uo task 

That kindliness may ask, 

Nor flinch at any duty to my kind ; 

Praying but to be freed 

From ignorance and greed, 

Grey fear and dull despondency of mind. 

So I would readjust 

The logic of the dust, 

The servile hope that puts its trust in things. 

Ephemera of earth. 

Of more than fleeting worth, 

Are we, endowed with rapture as with wings. 

(Type of the soul of man, 
The slight yet stable plan ! 
Those creatures perishable as the dew, 
How buoyantly they ride 
The vast and perilous tide, 
Free as the air their courses to pursue!) 

89 



THE WORD AT ST. KAVIN S 

And I would keep my soul 

Joyous and sane and whole, 

Unshamed by falsehood and unvexed by strife, 

Unalien In that clear 

And radiant atmosphere 

That still surrounds us with a larger life. 

When we have laid aside 

Our truculence and pride, 

Craven self-seeking, turbulent self-will. 

Resolved this very day 

No longer to obey 

The tyrant Mammon who begods us still. 

All selfish gain at best 
Brings but profound unrest 
And inward loss, despite our loud professions. 
Think therefore what it is, 
What surety of bliss, 

To be absolved from burdensome possessions! 

90 



THEWORDATST. KAVIN S 

Shall God, who doth provide 

The majesty and pride 

And beauty of this earth so lavishly, 

Deny them to the poor 

And low^ly and obscure? 

Nay, they are given to all justly and free. 

And if I share my crust, 

As common manhood must, 

With one v^^hose need is greater than my own, 

Shall I not also give 

His soul, that it may live, 

Of the abundant pleasures I have known? 

And so, if I have wrought. 
Amassed or conceived aught 
Of beauty or intelligence or power, 
It is not mine to hoard ; 
It stands there to afford 
Its generous service simply as a flower. 

91 



THE WORD AT ST. KAVIN S 

How soon, my friends, how soon 

We should obtain the boon 

Of shining peace for which the toiler delves, 

If only we would give 

Our spirit room to live, — 

Be, here and now, our brave untarnished selves; 

If only we would dare 

Espouse the good and fair 

Our soul, unbound by custom, still perceives; 

And without compromise 

Or favour in men's eyes 

Live by the truth each one of us believes! 

Bow not to vested wrong 
That we have served too long. 
Pawning our birthright for a tinsel star! 
Shall the soul take upon her 
Time-service and mouth-honour? 
Behold the fir-trees, how unswerved they are! 

92 



THEWORDATST. KAVIN S 



Native to sun and storm, 

They cringe not nor conform, 

Save to the gentle law their sound heart knows; 

Each day enough for them 

To rise, cone, branch, and stem, 

A leaf-breadth higher in their tall repose. 

Ah, what a travesty 

Of man's ascent, were I 

To bear myself less royally than they, 

After the ages spent 

In spirit's betterment, 

Through rounds of aspiration and decay ! 

For surely I have grown 
Within a cleft of stone. 

With spray of mountain torrents in my face. 
Slow soaring ring by ring 
On moveless tiled wing, 
I have seen earth below me sink through space. 

. 93 



THE WORD AT ST. KAVIN S 

I too in polar night 

Have hungered, gaunt and white, 

Alone amid the awful silences; 

And fled on gaudy fin. 

When the blue tides came in, 

Through coral gardens under tropic seas. 

And wheresoe'er I strove. 

The greater law was love, 

A faith too fine to falter or mistrust; 

There w^as no wanton greed, 

Depravity of breed. 

Malice nor cant nor enmity unjust. 

Nay, not till I was man. 
Learned I to scheme and plan 
The blackest depredation on my kind, 
Converting to my gain 
My fellow's need and pain. 
In chartered pillage ruthless and refined. 

94 



THE WORD AT ST. KAVIN S 

Therefore, my friends, I say, 

Back to the fair sweet way 

Our mother Nature taught us long ago, — 

The large primeval mood, 

Leisure and amplitude. 

The dignity of patience strong and slow. 

Let us go in once more, 

By some blue mountain door, 

And hold communion with the forest leaves, 

Where long ago we trod 

The Ghost House of the God, 

Through orange dawns and amethystine eves. 

There bright-robed choristers 
Make music in the firs, 
Rejoicing in their service all day long; 
And there the whole night through. 
Along the dark still blue, 

What glorying hosts with starry tapers throng! 

95 



THEWORDATST. KAVIN S 

There in some deep ravine 
Whose walls are living green, 
A sanctuary spacious, cool, and dim, 
At earth-refreshing morn, 
i he pure white clouds are born, — 
ilie incense of the ground sent up to Him. 

No slighted task is there, 

But equal craft and care 

And love in irresistible accord, 

The test and sign of art. 

Bestowed through every part; 

No thought of recognition or reward. 

In that diviner air 
We shall grow wise and fair, 
Not frayed by hurry nor distraught by noise, - 
Learn once again to be 
Noble, courageous, free, — 
Regain our primal ecstasy and poise. 

96 



THE WORD AT ST. KAVIN S 

Calm in the deep control 

Of firmamental soul, 

Let us abide unfretful and secure, 

Knowledge and reason bent 

To further soul's intent, — 

Her veiled dim purposes remote yet sure. 

For soul has led us now, 

Science unravels how. 

Through cell and tissue up from dust to man; 

And will lead by and by. 

No logic tells us why, 

To fill her purport in the ampler plan. 

Ah, trust the soul, my friends. 
To seek her own great ends 
Revealed not in the fashion of the hour! 
For she outlives intact 
The Insufficient act. 

Herself the source and channel of all power. 

97 



THE WORD AT ST. KAVIN S 

The soul survives, unmarred, 

The mind care-worn and scarred, 

That still is anxious over little things, 

To come unto her own. 

Through benefits unknown 

And the green beauty of a thousand springs. 

From infinite resource 

She holds her gleaming course 

Through toil, distraction, hindrance, and dismay. 

Till some high destiny. 

Accomplished by and by. 

Reveals the splendid hope that was her stay. 

Therefore should every hour 
Replenish her with power 
Of joy and love and freedom and fresh truth, 
That we even in age 
May share her heritage 
Of ancient wisdom with the heart of youth. 

98 



THE WORD AT ST. KAVIN S 

Lore of the worldly wise 

Is folly in her eyes. 

All-energy, all-knowledge, and all-love, 

Aware of deeps below 

This pageant that we know, 

Hers is the very faith accounted of 

By Him who rose and bade 

His friends be not afraid. 

When peril rocked their fishing-boat at sea, — 

Who bade the sick not fear, 

The sad be of good cheer. 

And in the hour they were made whole and free. 

The sceptic sees but part 

Of Nature's mighty heart. 

A wide berth would I give that dangerous 

shoal — 
Steer for the open sea, 
No sight of land, but free. 
Trusting my senses, shall I doubt my soul? 

99 



THEWORDATST. KAVIN S 

Let me each day anew 

My outward voyage pursue 

For the Far Islands and the Apple Lands. 

Till through the breaking gloom 

Some evening they shall loom, 

With one pale star above the lilac sands. 

Ah, that day I shall know 

How the shy wood-flowers grow 

In the deep forest, turning to the light; 

Untrammelled impulse still 

With glad obedient will 

The only guide out of ancestral night. 

Oh, I shall comprehend 

Truth at my journey's end, — 

What being is, and what I strive to be, — 

What soul in beauty's guise 

Eludes our wistful eyes. 

Yet surely Is akin to you and me. 

lOO 



THEWORDATST. KAVIN S 

Therefore, towards that supreme 

Knowledge, that unveiled dream, 

That promise of our life from day to day, 

The grace of joyousness 

Abide with us to bless 

And help us forth along the Perfect Way ! 

The voice of the good priest 

In benediction ceased ; 

The congregation like a murmur rose; 

And when I set my pack 

Once more upon my back, 

'Twas light as any thistle-down that blows. 



loi 



CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. 
KAVIN'S. 

To the assembled folk 

At great St. Kavin's spoke 

Young Brother Amiel on Christmas eve; 

I give you joy, my friends, 

That as the round year ends, 

We meet once more for gladness by God's leave. 

On other festal days 
For penitence or praise 

Or prayer we meet, or fulness of thanksgiving; 
To-night we calendar 
The rising of that star 

Which lit the old world with new joy of living. 

1 02 



CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S 

'Ah, we disparage still 

The Tidings of Good Will, 

Discrediting Love's gospel now as then! 

And with the verbal creed 

That God is love indeed, 

Who dares make Love his god before all men? 

Shall we not, therefore, friends. 

Resolve to make amends 

To that glad inspiration of the heart; 

To grudge not, to cast out 

Selfishness, malice, doubt. 

Anger and fear ; and for the better part, 

To love so much, so well, 
The spirit cannot tell 
The range and sweep of her own boundary ! 
There is no period 
Between the soul and God ; 
Love is the tide, God the eternal sea. 

103 



CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S 

Of old, men walked by fear; 

And if their God seemed near, 

It was the Avenger unto whom they bowed, — 

A wraith of their own woes, 

Vain, cruel, and morose. 

With anger and vindictiveness endowed. 

Of old, men walked by hate; 

The ruthless were the great; 

Their crumbling kingdoms stayed by might alone. 

Men saw vast empires die, 

Nor guessed the reason why, — 

The simple law of life as yet unknown 

As love. Then came our Lord, 
Proclaiming the accord 

Of soul and nature in love's rule and sway, 
The lantern that he set 
To light us, shining yet 
Along the Perfect Path wherein we stray. 

104 



CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S 

To-day we walk by love; 

To strive Is not enough, 

Save against greed and ignorance and might. 

We apprehend peace comes 

Not with the roll of drums, 

But in the still processions of the night. 

And we perceive, not awe 

But love is the great law 

That binds the world together safe and whole. 

The splendid planets run 

Their courses in the sun ; 

Love is the gravitation of the soul. 

In the profound unknown, 

Illumined, fair, and lone, 

Each star is set to shimmer In its place. 

In the profound divine 

Each soul is set to shine, 

And its unique appointed orbit trace. 

105 



CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S 

There is no near nor far, 

Where glorious Algebar 

Swings round his mighty circuit through the 

night, 
Yet where without a sound 
The winged seed comes to ground. 
And the red leaf seems hardly to alight. 

One force, one lore, one need 

For satellite and seed. 

In the serene benignity for all. 

Letting her time-glass run 

With star-dust, sun by sun. 

In Nature's thought there is no great nor small. 

There is no far nor near 
Within the spirit's sphere. 
The summer sunset's scarlet-yellow wings 
Are tinged with the same dye 
That paints the tulip's ply. 
And what is colour but the soul of things? 

1 06 



CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S 

(The earth was without form; 

God moulded it with storm, 

Ice, flood, and tempest, gleaming tint and hue; 

Lest it should come to ill 

For lack of spirit still, 

He gave it colour, — let the love shine through. ) 

My joy of yesterday 

Is just as far away 

As the first rapture of my man's estate. 

A lifetime or an hour 

Has all there is of power. 

In Nature's love there is no small nor great. 

Of old, men said, " Sin not ; 
By every line and jot 

Ye shall abide; man's heart is false and vile." 
Christ said, " By Love alone 
In man's heart is God known; 
Obey the word no falsehood can defile." 

107 



CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S 

The wise physician there 

Of our distress had care, 

And laid his finger on the pulse of time. 

And there to eyes unsealed 

Earth's secret lay revealed, 

The truth that knows not any age nor clime. 

The heart of the ancient wood 

Was a grim solitude, 

The sanction of a worship no less grim ; 

Man's ignorance and fear 

Peopled the natural year 

With forces evil and malign to him. 

He saw the wild, rough way 
Of cosmic powers at play; 
He did not see the love that lay below. 
Jehovah, Mars, and Thor, 
These were the gods of war 
He made in his own likeness long ago. 

io8 



CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S 

Then came the Word, and said, 

" See how the world is made, — 

With how much loving kindness, ceaseless care. 

Not Wrath, but Love, call then 

The Lord of beasts and men. 

Whose hand sustains the sparrows in the air." 

And since that day we prove 

Only how great is love, 

Nor to this hour its greatness half believe. 

For to what other power 

Will life give equal dower, 

Or chaos grant one moment of reprieve! 

Look down the ages' line, 
Where slowly the divine 
Evinces energy, puts forth control; 
See mighty love alone 
Transmuting stock and stone, 
Infusing being, helping sense and soul. 

109 



CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S 

And what is energy, 

In-working, which bids be 

The starry pageant and the life of earth? 

What is the genesis 

Of every joy and bliss, 

Each action dared, each beauty brought to birth ? 

What hangs the sun on high? 

What swells the growing rye ? 

What bids the loons cry on the Northern lake? 

What stirs in swamp and swale, 

When April winds prevail, 

And all the dwellers of the ground awake? 

What lurks in the dry seed, 
But waiting to be freed, 
Asleep and patient for a hundred years? 
Till of earth, rain, and sun, 
A miracle is done. 

Some magic calls the sleeper and he hears, — 

no 



CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S 

Arouses, puts forth blade 

And leaf and bud, arrayed 

Some morning in that garb of rosy snow, 

The same fair matchless flower 

As shed its petal-shower 

Through old Iberean gardens long ago. 

What is it that endures. 
Survives, persists, immures 
Life's very self, preserving type and plan? — 
Yet learns the scope of change. 
As the long cycles range, — 
Looks through the eyes of bluebird, wolf, and 
man? 

What lurks in the deep gaze 
Of the old wolf? Amaze, 
Hope, recognition, gladness, anger, fear. 
But deeper than all these 
Love muses, yearns, and sees, 
And is the self that does not change nor veer. 

1 1 1 



CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S 

Not love of self alone, 

Struggle for lair and bone, 

But self-denying love of mate and young. 

Love that is kind and wise, 

Knows trust and sacrifice, 

And croons the old dark universal tongue. 

In Nature you behold 

But strivings manifold. 

Battle and conflict, tribe warring against tribe? 

Look deeper, and see all 

That death cannot appal, 

Failure intimidate, nor fortune bribe. 

Our brothers of the air 

Who come with June must dare. 

Be bold and strong, have knowledge, lust, and 

choice ; 
Yet think, when glad hosts throng 
The summer woods with song. 
Love gave them beauty and love lends them voice. 

112 



CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S 

Love surely in some form 

Bade them brave night and storm, — 

Was the dark binnacle that held them true, 

Those tiny mariners 

No unknown voyage deters, 

When the old migrant longing stirs anew. 

And who has understood 

Our brothers of the wood, 

Save he who put off guile and every guise 

Of violence, — made truce 

With panther, bear, and moose. 

As beings like ourselves whom love makes wise? 

For they, too, do love's will. 
Our lesser clansmen still ; 
The House of Many Mansions holds us all ; 
Courageous, glad, and hale, 
They go forth on the trail, 
Hearing the message, hearkening to the call. 

"3 



CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S 

Oh, not fortuitous chance 

Alone, nor circumstance, 

Begot the creatures after their own kind; 

But always loving will 

Was present to fulfil 

The primal purpose groping up to mind. 

Adversity but bade 

New puissance spring to aid, 

New powers develop, new aptness come in play; 

Yet never function wrought 

Capacity from nought, — 

Gave skill and mastery to the shapes of clay; 

For always while new need 
Evoked new thought through deed, 
Old self was there to ponder, choose, and strive. 
Fortune might mould, evolve. 
But impulse must resolve. 

Equipped at length to know, rejoice, and thrive. 

114 



CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S 

And evermore must Love 

Hearten, foresee, approve, 

And look upon the work and find it good ; 

Else would all effort fail, — 

The very stars avail 

Less than a swarm of fireflies in a wood. 

Take love out of the world 

One day, and we are hurled 

Back into night, to perish in the void. 

Love is the very girth 

And cincture of this earth, 

No stitch to be unloosed, no link destroyed. 

However wild and long 
The battle of the strong, 
Stronger and longer are the hours of peace, 
When gladness has its way 
Under the fair blue day, 

And life aspires, takes thought, bids good increase. 

"5 



CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S 

So dawns the awaited hour 

When the great cosmic power 

Of love was first declared by Christ; so too 

To-day we keep in mind 

His name who taught mankind 

That open secret old, yet ever new, — 

Commemorate his birth 

Who loved the kindly earth, 

Was gentle, strong, compassionate, humane, 

And tolerant and wise 

And glad, — the very guise 

And height of manhood not to lose again. 

Shall we not then forego 
Lavish perfunctory show, 
The burdensome display, the empty gift, 
That we may have to give 
To every soul alive 

Of love's illumination, cheer, and lift? 

ii6 



CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S 

See rich and poor be fed ! 

Break up thy soul for bread, 

Be loaves and fishes to the hungry heart, 

That a great multitude. 

Receiving of thy good. 

May bless the God within thee and depart! 

You workman, love your work 

Or leave it. Let no irk 

Unsteady the laborious hand, that still 

Must give the spirit play 

To follow her own way 

To beauty, through devotion, care, and skill. 

How otherwise find vent 

For soul's Imperious bent, 

Than thro' these hands for wonder-working made, 

When Love the sure and bold 

Guides to the unforetold? 

Blessed the craftsman who is unafraid! 

IT7 



CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S 

Give Beauty her sweet will, 

Make love your mistress still, 

You lovers, nor delay! God's time be yours. 

Make low-born jealousy 

And doubt ashamed to be, 

And cast old envious gossip out-of-doors. 

Believe the truth of love, 

Enact the beauty of love, 

Praise and adore the goodliness of love. 

For we are wise by love, 

And strong and fair through love. 

No less than sainted and inspired wn'th love. 

Remember the new word 
The Syrian twilight heard, 
That marvellous discourse which John records, 
The one last great command 
The Master left his band, 
" Love one another! " And our time affords 

ii8 



CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S 

What greater scope than just 

To execute that trust? 

Love greatly; love; love is life's best employ. 

Neighbour, sweetheart, or friend, 

Love wholly, to love's end; 

So is the round world richer for your joy. 

Love only, one or all! 

Measure no great and small! 

Love is a seed, life-bearing, undecayed ; 

And that immortal germ 

Past bounds of zone and term 

Will grow and cover the whole world with shade. 

Sow love, it cannot fail; 
Adversity's sharp hail 

May cut all else to ground; fair love survives. 
The black frost of despair 
And slander's bitter air, — 
Love will outlast them by a thousand lives. 

119 



CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S 

Be body, mind and soul, 

Subject to love's control, 

Each loving to the limit of love's power; 

And all as one, not three. 

So is man's trinity 

Enhanced and freed and gladdened hour by hour. 

Beauty from youth to age. 

The body's heritage, 

Love will not forfeit by neglect nor shame; 

And knowledge, dearly bought, 

Love will account as nought. 

Unless it serve soul's need and body's claim. 

Let soul desire, mind ask, 
And body crave; our task 
Be to fulfil each want in love's own way. 
So shall the good and true 
Partake of beauty too, 

And life be helped and greatened day by day. 

1 20 



CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S 

Spend love, and save it not; 

In act, in wish, in thought. 

Spend love upon this lifetime without stint. 

Let not the heart grow dry, 

As the good hours go by; 

Love now, see earth take on the glory tint. 

Open the door to-night 

Within your heart, and light 

The lantern of love there to shine afar. 

On a tumultuous sea 

Some straining craft, maybe, 

With bearings lost, shall sight love's silver star. 



THE END. 



T2I 




Ig^ FROM THB ^Is' 



Copyright, 1899, by 
The Century Company 

Copyright, 1902, by 
AiNSLEE Magazine Company 

Copyright, 1903, by 
The Ridgway- Thayer Company 

Copyright, 1903, 190S, by 
The Ess Ess Publishing Company (Incorporated) 

Copyright, 1904, 1905, by 
The Associated Sunday Magazine 

Copyright, 1905, by 
L. C. Page & Company (Incorporated) 



A II rights reserved 



COLONIAL PRESS 

Ehctrotyped and Printed by C. H . Sinionds 6* Co. 

Boston, U. S. A . 



CONTENTS. 

Page 

Ballad of the Young King's Madness . . i 

Across the Courtyard 20 

A Neighbour's Creed 32 

To One in Despair 35 

At the Great Release 39 

Morning and Evening 42 

In an Iris Meadow 44 

A Letter from Lesbos 47 

The Players 59 

The Mansion 61 

Who Is the Owner ? 64 

The Fairy Flower 66 

Yvanhoe Ferrara 68 

The Love - chant of King Hacko ... 73 

The Creation of Lilith 77 

In a Far Country 80 

Song of the Four Worlds 83 

Street Song at Night 89 

vii 



CONTENTS 



The Least of Love 92 

A Man's Last Word 95 

A Midwinter Memory ....... 99 

An Angel in Plaster 102 



Vlll 



BALLAD OF THE YOUNG 
KING'S MADNESS. 

In a Kingdom long ago, as the story comes to me, 

There lived a sturdy folk by the borders of the 
sea; 

The snow-tipped mountains behind them guard- 
ing the East and the North, 

While open to Southward and Westward, were 
the sea-gates bidding them forth. 

Launching their boats through the breakers, 

casting their nets in the tide, 
The sea had given them daring, strength and 

endurance and pride; 
Watching their sheep with the eagles on many a 

lonely hill, 



THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS 

The Stars had given them knowledge and insight 
and ghostly skill ; 

For wisdom comes to the waiting as water comes 
to a mill, 

From unsluiced sources of silence where the chat- 
ter of life grows still. 

I. 

Over this sturdy people there ruled without 
favour or greed 

A man with the arm and heart of the olden 
kingly breed. 

There was never a sport nor contest, there was 
never a horse to tame. 

But the King would meet all comers, and was 
ever first in the game. 

A speaker of truth to all men, he carried his will 
with a word ; 

And Justice dwelt in his borders, nor ever un- 
sheathed her sword. 



THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS 

Likable, open and reckless, he neither bullied nor 

feared, 
When over the rim of his empire threatening 

danger appeared, 
But in the face of his council laughed in his 

yellow beard. 

Yet his light-heart ways were a scandal to the 

seemly and the sage, 
He would turn from the weightiest business to 

rally a love-sick page. 
Twitting him for a laggard, making him blush 

with a jest. 
Shaming him for a waster by the good wine 

spilt on his vest. 

Never a band of minstrels passed, but he bade 

them in, 
Haling the lads by the shoulder, taking the maids 

by the chin; 

3 



THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS 

Till the courtyard gleamed with motley, and the 
palace rang with din. 

Courtiers lived on his bounty, lights-of-love 
supped at his board. 

Merry the time he gave them, priceless the wine 
he poured. 

Lavish of all his substance for the gay and care- 
less horde; 

Till long lips groaning abhorrence had evil things 
to foretell. 

But always the children loved him, and the 
women — passing well. 

II. 
So time wore on, and the King awoke one day 

with a start, 
To hear a strange new whisper of discontent in 

his heart. 



THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS 

Pleasure he had in plenty, health, and compan- 
ions, and power; 

Yet what is all this life but a void and empty 
hour? 

Fair was the golden morning with April over 

the hill. 
He strolled to the gate of the palace and stood 

there grave and still. 
Watching the mountain shadows, then shut his 

teeth on his will. 
'' Bring me a horse," he ordered. They saddled 

his favourite bay; 
And down through the watered valley the young 

King rode away; 
Down through the flowery orchards, where the 

river babbles and shines, 
Past ford and smithy and farm, and up where the 

narrowing lines 



THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS 

Of tillage and pasture vanish in the dusk of the 

purple pines. 
How speculation and rumour fluttered his folk 

that day! 
" Who can fathom his fancies? Mad as a hare! " 

said they. 

In a cleft of the solemn mountains, like a thought 

in earth's green heart, 
Stood a hospice of recluse men, quiet, secluded, 

apart. 
Having forgotten the w^orld and left distraction 

behind. 
For care of the troublous vi^ant and hunger of the 

mind. 

There as the night vv^as falling, the King on his 

red mare came, 
And they have w^elcomed the stranger, asking not 

station nor name. 

6 



THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS 

Who bides at the house of God needs neither 
money nor fame. 

Never an eyelid flickered, never a word betrayed 

They knew the habit and bearing accustomed to 
be obeyed; 

But after the rule of their order, equal in every- 
thing, 

With kingly love for a brother the brothers served 
their King. 

They gave him his seat at table, cell and habit 

and stall. 
The scanty fare and the hours of prayer, meekly 

he took them all; 
Nor ever they found him wanting in duties great 

or small. 

Lowly he sat before them and many a lecture 
heard, 

7 



THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS 

Questioned and reasoned and listened, argued, 

proved and conferred, 
And by many a lonely candle pondered the printed 

word. 

Daily the power of knowledge grew and spread 
in his face; 

Daily the look of the scholar glowed with a finer 
trace ; 

Daily the tan-flush faded and ever he grew in 
grace. 

As understanding within him climbed to her law- 
ful place. 

So from the man of sinew they made a student 

at last, 
Thoughtful and grave as he had been brave ; till, 

lo, three years had passed, 
And the young King yawned one day, stretching 

himself in the sun, 
8 



THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS 

And murmured : " Now let's see what their book- 
learning has done! 

The arms grow feeble, alack! The foot and eye 
grow slow; 

Let's put their lore to the test. Good friends, 
this day I go." 

So said, so done. Mused the Brothers, watching 

him down the hill : 
" Feeble must be our virtue, if this hope comes to 

ill." 
They saw him lost in dust; and the sundown's 

dying rose 
Kindled their lofty hill-crest in its eternal snows. 

III. 

Now well the Kingdom prospered while the 

young King was away, 
For wise were the heads of his council, leaders 

of men in their day, 
9 



THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS 

Stubborn at fronting clamour, strong to govern 

and sway, 
Of tested honour and flawless tried in the world's 

assay. 

Yet there was joy at his coming, throngs that 

laughed with delight, 
Cheers as he passed and waving, children held in 

his sight. 
Flags hung out at the windows, and bonfires lit 

in the night. 
Comrades met on the corner, cronies talked in 

the door, 
" The merry times are returning ; we shall have 

revels once more." 

But they reckoned without their host, if they 

thought the glorious days 
Of the King's wild youth had returned with their * 

drinking and masques and plays. 

lO 



THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS 

Sober he sat at council, wisely he judged and 

decreed, 
Till the frivolous gaped and muttered : " A 

paragon indeed ! " 

Tireless, toiling and thoughtful, steadfast, kingly 
and tall. 

But lonely he lived, unloving, blameless before 
them all. 

With never a rose in his bower nor a bosom- 
friend in his hall. 

And ever his brow grew whiter, his eye more 

hungry bright. 
For the blessing of peace escaped him, though he 

tolled by day and night. 
By lamplight and daylight he laboured, till his 

visage grew lean and grim, 

While his people saw and wondered, and their 

hearts went out to him. 
II 



THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS 

So he strove for a year or more, and never was 
seen to fail 

In the least or the greatest matter where dili- 
gence might avail. 

Yet ever he grew more restless, and ever his 
cheek more pale. 

IV. 

Now it chanced on another morning like that 

when he rode away. 
The King must come to his seaboard, where a 

foreign galleon lay, 
Black hull and gleaming canvas, with her decks 

in trim array; 
Long and graceful and speedy as a flying fish 

was she. 
Showing the scarlet pennon of the gypsies of the 

sea. 



12 



THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS 

There in a dream he stood ; watching the surf 

and the sand ; 
Then all of a sudden he laughed, as the rowers 

rowed to land. 
" God of my fathers," he cried. " What manner 

of fool am I ? 
A landsman all my life, a sea-king will I die." 

Needs must they humour him then, whispering, 

" Mad once more! " 
As they heard him speak to the sailors, and saw 

him rowed from the shore. 
Small room to parley or caution, and smaller use 

to deplore; 
When a strong man comes to his stronghold, fate 

must yield him the door. 

Lightly he stood in the boat, when the bending 
rowers rowed ; 



13 



THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS 

And the wind and the tide and the sun freshened 

and sparkled and glowed. 
There lay the sea before him fair as an open road. 

Last they saw of the King was at the helmsman's 

side, 
Gay in the light of adventure, while the vessel 

swung on the tide. 
With a song they hove her anchor; the sails 

drew taut and free; 
And she heeled to the wind and lessened on the 

long blue slope of the sea. 

V. 

The sun came up, the sun went down, the tide 
drew out and in. 

But never a word that seaport heard from for- 
eigner or kin, 

Rower, merchant, or sailorman, or the gypsies of 
the sea, 

14 



THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS 

Whither their prince had vanished, or what his 

fate might be; 
Till a thousand suns had circled, and twice a 

thousand tides 
Had swung the swaying harbour buoys and 

brimmed through the channel guides. 

Then through a winter twilight when the sun 

was a disk of red. 
The keen-eyed watcher beheld, as he gazed from 

the harbour-head, 

A moving speck like a seahawk crossing that targe 

of flame; 
And beating up from the sea- rim the gypsy 

galleon came. 

And why is she decked with pennons, and 

trimmed with cloth of gold? 
And what are these scarlet trappings the harbour 

folk behold? 

IS 



THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS 

What means her glory of banners fluttering on 

the breeze, 
Brave as the coloured autumn that is the pride 

of the trees? 
Has she rifled a sea-king's treasure and plundered 

the isles of the seas? 

Slowly she passed the entry, the white sails low- 
ered and furled. 

And there was our long-lost truant from the 
other side of the world. 

On the deck he stood, the figure of a man to 
make men bold, 

A browned and hardy master, as debonair as of 
old, 

The strength of his hands as aforetime, the 
scholar's light on his brow. 

But something passing knowledge in his look and 
bearing now, 



i6 



THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS 

The calm of a radiant purpose, the joy of unerr- 
ing quest, 

The poise of perfected being when the soul attains 
her best. 

He had ruled with power and pleasure, he had 
searched and found out lore; 

And now his unfainting spirit had discovered the 
one thing more. 

But the curious eye forsook him to greet with 

amazed regard 
Another who stood at the taffrail by the sheet 

of the great main-yard ; 
Fine as a mast in stature, eager, unflinching, and 

free, 
With hair like the sun's raw gold and eyes like 

crumbs of the sea; 
Straight-browed — the imperial bearing of one 

who is born to sway, 



17 



THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS 

Deep-bosomed with all the ardour that kindles 

our wondrous clay; 
Regent of glad dominions, a sea-trove out of the 

vast 
Wide welter of life. " A hostage fit for our king 

at last!" 

Threefold is the search for perfection that leads 

through creation's plan — 
Through immemorial nature and the restless 

heart of man ; 
Beauty of shape and colour to gladden and profit 

the eye, 
Truth beyond cavil or question to answer the 

reason why, 
And the blameless spirit's portion — the joy that 

shall not die. 

The dauntless soul must wander to accomplish 
and attain 

i8 



THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS 

This balance of all her powers by the lead of 

love, or remain 
A stranger to peace forever in sorrow, defeat, and 

pain. 

Flushed with the cheers of welcome, lightly the 

king, all pride, 
Handed the girl, all beauty, over the vessel's side. 
Then in a lull of their salvos, to the wondering 

crowd that rings 
The pierhead, eager to question, *' Our queen," 

said the sanest of kings. 



19 



ACROSS THE COURTYARD. 

That is the window over there 
With the closed shutters and the air 
Of a deserted place, like those 
Abandoned homesteads whose repose 
Haunts us with mystery. Inside 
Who knows what tragedy may hide ? 

This window has been sealed up so 
A fortnight now. A month ago 
Just about dusk you should have seen 
The vision I saw smile and lean 
From that same window. Spring's return, 
When daffodils and jonquils burn 
Under the azure April day, 
Is not more lovely nor more gay. 
20 



ACROSS THE COURTYARD 

The world — at least, our artist world 

Where tubes are pinched and brushes twirled 

In the long task to reproduce 

God's masterpieces for man's use — 

Knows Jacynth for the loveliest 

Of all its models and the best. 

Why, half the portraits in the town, 

From Mrs. Bigwig, Jr.'s down, 

Have that same perfect taper hand 

(If you have wit to understand 

A woman's vanity, you know 

Why they should wish to have it so), 

Those same long fingers smooth and round. 

Faultless as petals, and not found 

Twice in a generation. Well, 

They're Jacynth's. But you need not tell 

The trick. In this world art must live 

On what the world's caprice will give. 



21 



ACROSS THE COURTYARD 

Delightful folly! But far more 
Delightful beauty we adore 
And follow humbly day by day, 
Her difficult, enchanted way. 
(Dear beauty, still beyond the reach 
Of paint, or music, or of speech!) 
We toil and triumph and despair, 
Then on a morn look up, and there 
Some girl goes by, or there's a dash 
Of colour on the clouds — a flash 
Of inspiration caught between 
Chinks in the workshop's grey routine. 
One hint of glory through the murk, 
And God has criticized our work. 

So we plod on, and so one day 
It happened toward the end of May, 
When the long twilight comes, and when 
Our northern orchards bloom again — 
Even our poor old courtyard tree, 

22 



ACROSS THE COURTYARD 

Knowing the time that bids him be 

One of the hosts that leaf and sing 

In the revival of the spring, 

Dons his green robe of joy. You know 

How idle, then, a man will grow. 

I had been sitting lost in thought 

Of how our best dreams come to naught, 

And we are left mere daubers still 

For want of knowledge, lack of skill — 

So many of us are, I mean ! 

The door was open, and the screen 

And curtains turned back everywhere 

For the first breath of summer air. 

That came in like a wanderer 

From far untroubled lands, to stir 

The prints along the wall, and bring 

Our dreams of greatness back with spring. 

Suddenly, I looked up, aware 
Before I looked, of some one there — 
23 



ACROSS THE COURTYARD 

You know how. In the doorway stood 
A tall girl dressed in black. How good 
A scrap of actual beauty is, 
After our unrealities! 
The copper-coloured hair; the glint 
Of tea-rose in her throat's warm tint; 
The magic and surprise that go 
With level blue-grey eyes; the slow 
Luxurious charm of poise and line, 
Half-Oriental, half-divine. 
And altogether human. Oh, 
One must have known her then, to know 
How faultless beauty still transcends 
The bound where faultless painting ends. 
But you may gather here and there 
Faint glimpses and reports of her 
In the best work of all the men 
Who painted her as she was then, 
Splendid and wonderful. To me, 
For colour and for symmetry, 
24 



ACROSS THE COURTYARD 

In her young glory there she seemed 
The flame-like one of whom they dreamed 
Who worshipped beauty in old days 
With singleness of joy and praise; 
Some great Astarte come to bless 
This old world with new loveliness; 
My own ideal come to life, 
After the failure and the strife, 
To prove I dreamed not all in vain 
In poverty beside the Seine. 

There came a sudden leap at heart 
That made my pulses stop and start, 
The surge and flood of sense that sweep 
Over our nature's hidden deep, 
When we look up and recognize 
Our vision in an earthly guise. 
Then reason must resign control 
To the indubitable soul, 



«S 



ACROSS THE COURTYARD 

Put off despair, arise and dance 
To the joy-music of romance. 

For one great year she posed for me ; 
Came in and out familiarly, 
And made the studio her home 
Almost — not quite ; for always some — 
What shall I say ? — reserve or pride, 
Mysterious and aloof, belied 
By the soft loving languorous mien, 
Invested her, enthroned serene 
Above importunings. Who knows. 
If she had chosen as I chose — 
Flung heart and head and hand away 
On the great venture of a day; 
Poured love and passion and romance 
In the frail mould of circumstance — 
Had she but dared be one of two, 
We might have made the world anew! 
However much it might have cost, 
26 



ACROSS THE COURTYARD 

Who knows what good may have been lost, 
What passing great reward ? 

One day 

When work was done she turned to say 

Her soft good night, and tripped down-stair 

With rustling skirts and her fine air 

Of breeziness, humming a catch 

From some street-song. I heard the latch 

Click after her, and she was gone. 

Next day I waited. It wore on 

To afternoon, and still no sign 

Of peril near this dream of mine. 

A j^ear went by, and not a word 

Of the lost Jacynth could be heard. 

May came again ; the wind once more 
Was blowing bj'^ the open door. 
And I saw something over there 
Across the yard that made me stare. 
27 



ACROSS THE COURTYARD 

Strangers had recently arrived 
On that third floor, and Fate contrived 
One of her small dramatic scenes 
Which make us vi^onder what life means, 
And whether it is all a play 
For our diversion by the way. 
There at the window I caught sight 
Of a girl's figure. The crisp white 
Of the fresh gown passed and repassed, 
Strangely familiar, till at last, 

" Jacynth, of course! Who else? " I cried. 
And on the instant she espied 
Me watching her ; quick as a flash 
And smiling, ran, threw up the sash 
To lean far out. " How do you do. 
My friend ? " " Why, Jacynth, how are you, 
After this long, long time? " I said. 

" Thank you, quite well." Her pretty head 

Was tilted up, in every line 

An old medallion rare and fine. 
28 



ACROSS THE COURTYARD 

* Yes, it's a long time, isn't it, 
Since that first day I came to sit 
For your great Lilith? Tell me how 
They hung it at the Fair. And now 
That we are neighbours once again, 
Do come to see me." It was plain 
From the unwonted vanity 
Of tone, as she ran on to me, 
Some strange ambition, plan, or hope 
Had come to give her pride new scope. 
Somehow she had acquired the chill 
Of worldliness ; I missed the thrill 
Of eager radiance she had 
When we were comrades free and glad. 
Some volatile and subtle trace 
Of soul had vanished from her face. 
Leaving the brilliancy that springs 
From polished and enamelled things. 
The beauty of the lamp still shone 
With lustre, but the flame was gone. 
29 



ACROSS THE COURTYARD 

There was so evident in her 

The smug complacent character 

Of prosperous security, 

That when, with just a flick at me, 

She added, gaily as before, 

It isn't Jacynth any more. 

It's Mrs. " — some one — here was I, 

Too much astonished to reply. 

Before she vanished. From that day 

The rest is blank, think what you may. 

There is her window, as you see, 

Closed on a teasing mystery. 

I think, as I recall her here, 
How much life means beyond the mere 
Safety, convenience, and the pose 
Respectability bestows ; 
The beauty of the questing soul 
In every face, beyond control 
Is dimmed by wearing any mask 
3c 



ACROSS THE COURTYARD 

That dull conformity may ask. 
How almost no one understands 
The unworldliness that art demands! 
How few have courage to retain 
Through years of doubtful stress and strain 
The resolute and lonely will 
To follow beauty, to fulfil 
The dreams of their prophetic youth 
And pay the utmost price of truth! 
How few have nerve enough to keep 
The trail, and thread the dark and steep 
By the lone lightning-flash that falls 
Through sullen murky intervals! 
How many faint of heart must choose 
The steady lantern for their use, 
And never, without fear of Fate, 
Be daring, generous and great! 

Where is she now? What sudden change 
Clouded our day-dream? Love is strange! 
31 



A NEIGHBOUR'S CREED. 

'■'■ Nor knowest thou what argument 
Thy life to thy neighbour s creed has lent." 

I. 

All day the weary crowds move on 
Through the grey city's stifling heat, 
With anxious air, with jaded mien, 
To strife, to labour, to defeat. 

But I possess my soul in calm, 
Because I know, unvexed by noise. 
Somewhere across the city's hum 
Your splendid spirit keeps its poise. 
32 



A NEIGHBOUR S CREED 
II. 

Because I see you bright and brave, 

I say to my despondent heart, 

Up, loiterer! Put off this guise 

Of gloom, and play the sturdier part! " 

Three things are given man to do: 
To dare, to labour, and to grow. 
Not otherwise from earth we came, 
Nor otherwise our way we go. 

Three things are given man to be: 
Cheerful, undoubting, and humane, 
Surviving through the direst fray. 
Preserving the untarnished strain. 

Three things are given man to know: 
Beauty and truth and honour. These 
Are the nine virtues of the soul, 
Her mystic powers and ecstasies. 
33 



A NEIGHBOUR S CREED 

And when I see you bravely tread 
That difficult and doubtful way, 
" Up, waverer ; wilt thou forsake 
Thy comrade? " to my soul I say. 

Then bitterness and sullen fear. 
Mistrust and anger, are no more. 
That quick gay step is in the hall; 
That rallying voice is at the door. 



34 



TO ONE IN DESPAIR. 

I. 

O die not yet, great heart ; but deign 
A little longer to endure 
This life of passionate fret and strain, 
Of slender hope and joy unsure! 

Take Contemplation by the sleeve, 
And ask her, " Is it not worth while 
To teach my fellows not to grieve, — 
To lend them courage in a smile? 

" Is it so little to have made 
The timorous ashamed of fear, — 
The idle and the false afraid 
To front existence with a sneer? " 
35 



TO ONE IN DESPAIR 

For those who live within your sway 
Know not a mortal fear, save one, — 
That some irreparable day 
They should awake, and find you gone. 

II. 
Live on, love on ! Let reason swerve ; 
But instinct knows her own great lore, 
Like some uncharted planet's curve 
That sweeps in sight, then is no more. 

Live on, love on, without a qualm, 
Child of immortal charity, 
In the great certitude and calm 
Of joy free-born that shall not die. 

III. 

We dream ourselves inheritors 

Of some unknown and distant good, 

36 



TO ONE IN DESPAIR 

That shall requite us for the faults 
Of our own lax ineptitude. 

But soon and surely they may come, 
Whom love makes wise and courage free, 
Into their heritage of joy, — 
Their earth-day of eternity. 

IV. 

The thought that I could ever call 
Your name, and you would not be here. 
At moments sweeps my soul away 
In the relentless tide of fear; 

Then from its awful ebb returns 
The sea of gladness strong and sure. 
By this I know that love is great ; 
By this I know I shall endure. 



37 



TO ONE IN DESPAIR 

V. 

When I shall have lain down to sleep, 
I pray no sound to break my rest. 
No seraph's trumpet through the night 
Could touch my weary soul with zest. 

But oh, beyond the reach of thought 
How I should waken and rejoice. 
To hear across the drift of time 
One golden echo of your voice! 



38 



AT THE GREAT RELEASE. 

When the black horses from the house of Dis 
Stop at my door and the dread charioteer 
Knocks at my portal, summoning me to go 
On the far solitary unknown way 
Where all the race of men fare and are lost, 
Fleeting and numerous as the autumnal leaves 
Before the wind in Lesbos of the Isles ; 

Though a chill draught of fear may quell my soul 
And dim my spirit like a flickering lamp 
In the great gusty hall of some old king, 
Only one mordant unassuaged regret. 
One passionate eternal human grief, 



AT THE GREAT RELEASE 

Would wring my heart with bitterness and tears 
And set the mask of sorrow on my face. 

Not youth, nor early fame, nor pleasant days. 

Nor flutes, nor roses, nor the taste of wine. 

Nor sweet companions of the idle hour 

Who brought me tender joys, nor the glad sound 

Of children's voices playing in the dusk ; 

All these I could forget and bid good-bye 

And pass to my oblivion nor repine. 

Not the green woods that I so dearly love, 
Nor summer hills in their serenity, 
Nor the great sea mystic and musical, 
Nor drone of insects, nor the call of birds. 
Nor soft spring flowers, nor the wintry stars; 
To all the lovely earth that was my home 
Smiling and valiant I could say farewell. 



40 



AT THE GREAT RELEASE 

But not, oh, not to one strong little hand, 

To one droll mouth brimming with witty words. 

Nor ever to the unevasive eyes 

Where dwell the light and sweetness of the world 

With all the sapphire sparkle of the sea! 

Ah, Destiny, against whose knees we kneel 

With prayer at evening, spare me this one woe! 



41 



MORNING AND EVENING. 

When the morning wind comes up the mountain, 
Stirring all the beech-groves of the valley, 
And, before the paling stars have vanished, 
The first tawny thrush disturbs the tw^ilight 
With his reed-pipe, eerie calm and golden — 
The earth-music marvellous and olden — 

Then good fortune enters at my doorway, 

And my heart receives the guest called Gladness; 

For I know it is that day of summer 

When I shall behold your face ere nightfall, 

And this earth, as never yet in story. 

Ledge to hill-crest dyed in purple glory. 



42 



MORNING AND EVENING 

When the evening breath draws down the valley, 
And the clove is kill of dark blue shadows 
Moving on the mountain-wall, just silvered 
By the large moon lifted o'er the earth-rim, 
At the moment of transported being, 
When soul gathers what the eyes are seeing, 

Sense is parted like a melted rain-mist, 
And our mortal spirits run together, 
Saying, ** O incomparable comrade! " 
Saying, " O my lover, how good love is! " 
Then the twilight falls; the hill-wind hushes; 
Note by note once more the cool-voiced thrushes. 



43 



IN AN IRIS MEADOW. 

Once I found you in an Iris meadow 

Down between the seashore and the river, 

Playing on a golden willow whistle 

You had fashioned from a bough in springtime, — 

Piping such a wild melodious music, 

Full of sunshine, sadness and sweet longing, 

As the heart of earth must have invented. 

When the wind first breathed above her bosom. 

And above the sea-rim, silver-lighted. 

Pure and glad and innocent and tender. 

The first melting planets glowed in splendour. 

There it was I loved you as a lover, 
Then it was I lost the world forever. 

44 



IN AN IRIS MEADOW 

For your slender fingers on the notches 
Set free more than that mere earthly cadence, — 
Loosed the piercing stops of mortal passion, — 
Touched your wood-mate with the spell of 

wonder, 
And the godhead in the man awakened. 
Virgin spirit with unsullied senses. 
There was earth for him all new-created. 
In a moment when the music's rapture 
Bade soul take what never thought could capture: 

Just the sheer glad bliss of being human, 
Just the large content beyond all reason, 
Just the love of flowers, hills and rivers, 
Shadowy forests and lone lovely bird-songs 
When the morning brightens in the sea-wind; 
And beyond all these the fleeting vision 
Of the shining soul that dwelt within you, 
(Magic fragrance of the meadow blossom) 
All the dear fond madness of the lover. 

45 



IN AN IRIS MEADOW 

These, all these the ancient wood-god taught me 
From the theme you piped and the wind brought 
me. 

Was it strange that I should stop the playing? 

Was it strange that I should touch the blossom? 

Must (a man's way!) see whence came the music, 

Must with childish marvel count the petals? 

O but sweet were your uncounted kisses ! 

Wild and dear those first impulsive fondlings, 

When your great eyes swept me, then went sea- 
ward, 

Too o'ercharged to bear the strain of yearning, 

And the little head must seek this shoulder! 

Then we heard once more the wood-god's meas- 
ure, 

And strange gladness filled the world's great 
leisure. 



46 



A LETTER FROM LESBOS. 

More beloved than ever yet was mortal! 
Oh, but doubt not, lover, I do love thee! 
When he wrote these words, bitter and lonely 
Was that tender heart in wintry Lesbos. 
Kindly gods but speed my journey thither, 
(How the wind burns from the scorching desert, 
Through the scarlet beds of scentless blossom!) 
And make fortunate that swift home-coming! 
For I fret in this Egyptian exile, 
Too long parted, sickening for the home-wind 
And the first white gleam of Mitylene. 

Blessed words to brave the stormy sea-way! 
In this stifling city's sultry languor 

47 



A LETTER FROM LESBOS 

I must now with joy and tears and longing, 
Now the hundredth time at least re-read them : 

// is the bitter season of the year; 
The mournful-piping sea-wind is abroad 
JVith driving snow and battle in the air. 
Shaking the stubborn roof tree gust by gust; 
And under the frost-grey skies without a sun 
Cold desolation wraps the wintry world. 

And I, my Gorgo, keep the fireside here. 
Chill-hearted, brooding, visited by doubt. 
Wondering how Demeter or wise Pan 
Will work the resurrection of the spring. 
Serene and punctual at the appointed time. 
With the warm sun, the swallows at the eaves, 
The slant of rain upon the purple hill. 
The flame-like crocus by the garden wall. 
The light, the hope, the gladness all returned 
With maidens singing the Adonis song! 

48 



A LETTER FROM LESBOS 

But ah, more doubtful sad and full of fear 
There comes to me, disconsolate and lone. 
The thought of thee, my Gorgo, lovelier 
Than any premonition of the spring. 

I seem to see that radiant smile once more. 
The heaven-blue eyes, the crocus-golden hair. 
The rose-pink beauty passionate and tall. 
Dear beyond words and daring with desire. 
For which thy lover would fling life away 
And traffic the last legacy of time. 

Ah, Gorgo, too long absent, well I know 
The sun will shine again and spring come back 
Her ancient glorious golden-flowered way. 
And gladness visit the green earth once more. 
But where in all that wonder wilt thou be. 
The very soul and spirit of the spring? 



49 



A LETTER FROM LESBOS 

// the high gods in that triumphant time 
Have calendared no day for thee to come 
Light-hearted to this doorway as of old. 
Unmoved I shall behold their pomps go by, — 
The painted seasons in their pageantry. 
The silvery processions of the ?noon. 
And all the infinite ardours unsubdued. 
Pass with the wind replenishing the earth. 

Incredulous forever I must live. 
And, once thy lover, without joy behold 
The gradual uncounted years go by. 
Sharing the bitterness of all things made. 

Ah, not thus! My hot tears sweet and tender, 
And the storm within this heaving bosom, 
Could he see, would tell him what the truth is, - 
How the heart of Gorgo breaks to reach him. 
And her arms are weak with empty waiting 
Through this long monotony of summer. 

50 



A LETTER FROM LESBOS 

Gentle spirit, grieve not so, for love's sake! 
How he raves beyond the touch of reason: 

O heart of mine, be hardier for ills. 

Since thou hast shared the sorrows of the gods 

And been partaker of their destiny. 

Have I not known the bitterness that sighed 

In mournful grief upon the river marge. 

And once obscured the lonely shining sun. 

When Syrinx and when Daphne fled awayf 

Not otherwise in sorrow did I fare 

Whom Gorgo, loveliest of mortals, loved. 

And whose own folly that same Gorgo lost. 

O lovers, hear me! Be not lax in love. 
Nor let the loved one from you for a day. 
For time that is the enemy of love. 
And change that is the constant foe of man. 
But wait the turn of opportunity 
To fret the delicate fabric of our life 

51 



A LETTER FROM LESBOS 

With doubt and slow forgetfulness and grief. 
Till he who was a lover once goes forth 
A friendless soul to front the joyless years, 
A brooding uncompanioned wanderer 
Beneath the silent and majestic stars. 

Now what folly waits on brooding passion! 

Truly not in solitude do mortals 

Reach the height and nobleness of heroes. 

Can it be so swiftly fades remembrance? 

Oh, my fond heart prompt him! This is better: 

The red flower of the fire is on the hearth. 
The white flower of the foam is on the sea. 
The golden inarshes and the tawny dunes 
Are gleaming white with snow and flushed with 

rose 
Where the pure level wintry sunlight falls. 
In the rose-garden, crimsoning each bough 
Against the purple boulders in the wall, 

52 



A LETTER FROM LESBOS 

Shine the rose-berries careless of the cold. 
While down along the margin of the sea, 
Just where the grey beach melts to greener grey. 
With mounting wavering combing plunge and 

charge. 
The towering breakers crumble in to shore. 

Now from that quiet picture of the eye. 
Hark to the trampling thunder and long boom. 
The lone unscansioned and mysterious rote 
Whose cadence marked the building of the world. 
The old reverberant music of the sea! 

Ah, to what ghostly piping of strange flutes 
Strays in lost loveliness Persephone, 
Heavy at heart, with trouble in her eyes. 
From her deep-bosomed mother far away. 
In the pale garden of Aidoneus now? 
And oh, what delicate piping holds thee, too. 
My Kore of the beauteous golden head? 

53 



A LETTER FROM LESBOS 

What voice, what luring laughter bid thee stay 
So long from thine own lover and so farf 
JYho' touches with soft words thy tender heart. 
In some bright foreign city far from here. 
My unforgotten Gorgo beautiful? 

Doubting still ? O bitterest of absence 
That the moth of doubt should mar the texture 
And fine tissue of the spirit's garment, 
The one garl? of beauty which the soul wears, - 
Love, the frailest, costliest of fabrics! 
Ah, doubt not! O lover, lover, lover, 
Who first taught the childlike heart of mortals 
This most false and evil worldly wisdom? 
Blighting as a frost on budded aloes. 
How It blackens love, the golden blossom! 
Would that I could cherish him this Instant, 
And dissolve that aching wintry passion 
In the warmth of this Impatient bosom! 
By what cruel fate must I be banished 

54 



A LETTER FROM LESBOS 

From his lonely bed? In lovely Lesbos 
All my heart is, with its passionate longing. 
O too piteous is the lot of women : 

In the long night I lie awake for hours 
Or sleep the sleep of dreamers without rest. 
For in my soul there is discouragement. 
And cold remorse lays hands upon my heart. 
Now thou art gone, the grey world has no joy. 
But bleak and bitter is the wind of life. 
Cutting this timid traveller to the bone. 

Not all the gods can ever give me peace. 
Nor their forgiveness make me glad again. 
For I have sinned against my own great soul 
And cherished far too little thy great love. 
Brave was thy spirit, glad and beautiful. 
Nor ever faltered nor was faint of heart 
In the fair splendid path of thy desire. 
Even as I speak there comes a touch of shame, 

SS 



A LETTER FROM LESBOS 

Like a friend's hand upon my shoulder laid. 
To think such moody and unmanly words 
Could ever pass the mouth thy mouth has pressed. 

Remembrance tvakes. I hear the long far call 
To fortitude and courage in the night 
From my companions of the mighty past. 
All the heroic lovers of the world. 

Hast thou not had a sudden thought of me, 

UnanxiouSj gay and tender with desire, 

O thou beloved more than all mortal things? 

For in my heart there was a sudden sense 

Just now with presage of returning joy. 

As when the wood-flowers waken to the sun 

And all their lovely ardours rearise. 

Or when the sinking tide from utmost ebb 

With one long sob summons his might once more. 



56 



A LETTER FROM LESBOS 

Out of this winter will put forth one day 

The incommunicable germ of spring. 

The magic fervour that makes all things new. 

When all the golden season will he glad 

With soft south winds and birds and woodland 

flowers 
And the shrill marshy music of the frogs. 
Piping a chorus to their father Fan. 
Then thou and I shall walk the earth once more 
Delirious with each other as of old. 
And the soft madness lead us far away 
By meadowy roads and through the lilac hills 
To our own province in the lands of love, — 
My new-found Gorgo, heart-throb of the spring. 

Heart of me! Ah, Cyprian deal gently! 
Soon, Oh soon, restore me to my lover, 
That I may repair this outworn habit, 
And reclothe him with thy golden glory. 
Scarlet circumstance and purple splendour, — 

57 



A LETTER FROM LESBOS 

State and air and pride of the immortals, 
Which these mortal men, by our devising 
And thy favour, wear — with fleeting rapture ! 
Fiercer blow, thou fervour of the desert! 
Northward, northward, you hot winds of Nilus, 
More consuming than a smelter's furnace! 
You who do the will of alien Isis, 
To this heart you cannot be unfriendly, 
If I once may loose the sail for Lesbos, 
And along the green and foaming sea-track 
Scud before you, light as any swallow 
Flashing down the long blue slope of springtime. 
O ye home-gods, free me to my lover! 



SB 



THE PLAYERS. 

We are the players of a play 

As old as earth, 

Between the wings of night and day, 

With tears and mirth. 

There is no record of the land 
From whence it came, 
No legend of the playwright's hand, 
No bruited fame 

Of those who for the piece were cast 
On that first night, 
When God drew up His curtain vast 
And there was light. 
59 



THE PLAYERS 



Before our eyes as we come on, 
From age to age, 

Flare up the footlights of the dawn 
On this round stage. 

In front, unknown, beyond the glare 
Vague shadows loom ; 
And sounds like muttering winds are there 
Foreboding doom. 

Yet wistfully we keep the boards; 
And as we mend 
The blundering forgotten words, 
Hope to the end 

To hear the storm-beat of applause 
Fill our desire 

When the dark Prompter gives us pause. 
And we retire. 



60 



THE MANSION. 

I thought it chill and lonesome, 
And too far from the road 
For an ideal dwelling, 
When here I first abode. 

But yesterday a lodger 
Smiled as she passed my door, 
With mien of gay contentment 
That lured me to explore. 

Unerringly she leads me, 
Compassionate and wise, 
Soul of immortal beauty 
Wearing the mortal guise. 
6i 



THE MANSION 



She knows from sill to attic 

The great house through and through, 

Its treasures of the ages, 

Surprises ever new. 

From room to room I follow, 
Entranced with each in turn, 
Enchanted by each wonder 
She bids my look discern. 

She names them : here Is First-love, 
A chamber by the sea; 
Here in a flood of noonday 
Is spacious Charity. 

Here is a cell, Devotion ; 
And lonely Courage here. 
Where child-deserted windows 
Look on the Northern year; 



THE MANSION 



Friendship and Faith and Gladness, 
Fragrant of air and bloom, 
Where one might spend a lifetime 
Secure from fear of gloom. 

And often as we wander, 
I fancy we have neared 
The Master of the Mansion, 
Who has not yet appeared. 



63 



WHO IS THE OWNER? 

Who owns this house, my lord or I? 
He in whose name the title runs, 
Or I, who keep it swept and clean 
And open to the winds and suns? 

He who is absent year by year, 
On some far pleasure of his own, 
Or I who spend on it so much 
Of willing flesh and aching bone? 

What if it prove a fable, all 
This rumour of a legal lord. 
And we should find ourselves in truth 
Owners and masters of the board! 
64 



WHO IS THE OWNERp 

What if this earth should just belong 
To those who tend it, you and me ! 
What if for once we should refuse 
His rental to this absentee? 

O friends, no landlord in the world 
Could love the place as well as I ! 
Love is the owner of the house, 
The only lord of destiny. 



6S 



THE FAIRY FLOWER. 

There's a fairy flower that grows 
In a corner of my heart, 
And the fragrance that it spills 
Is the sorcery of art. 

I may give it little care, 
Neither water it nor prune, 
Yet it suddenly will blow 
Glorious beneath the moon. 

I may tend it night and day, 
Taking thought to make it bloom; 
Yet my efforts all will fail 
To avert the touch of doom. 
66 



THE FAIRY FLOWER 



When It dies, my little flower, 
You may take my life as well; 
Though I live a hundred years, 
I shall have no more to tell. 



67 



YVANHOE FERRARA. 

Teach me, of little worth, O Fame, 
The golden word that shall proclaim 
Yvanhoe Ferraras name. 

I would that I might rest me now, 
As once I rested long ago, 

In the dim purple summer night, 
On scented linen cool and white. 

Lulled by the murmur of the sea 
And thy soft breath, Yvanhoe. 

What cared we for the world or time, 
Though like a far-oilf fitful chime, 
68 



YVANHOE FERRARA 



We heard the mournful anchored bell 
Above the sunken reef foretell 

That time should pass and pleasure be 
No more for us, Yvanhoe! 

We saw the crimson sun go down 
Across the harbour and the town, 

Dyeing the roofs and spars with gold ; 
But all his magic, ages old. 

Was not so wonderful to me 
As thy gold hair, Yvanhoe. 

Between the window and the road 
The tall red poppies burned and glowed ; 

They moved and flickered like a flame, 
As the low sea-wind went and came; 
69 



YVANHOE FERRARA 



But redder and more warm than they, 
Was thy red mouth, Yvanhoe. 

I think the stars above the hill 
Upon the brink of time stood still; 

And the great breath of life that blows 
The coal-bright sun, the flame-bright rose, 

Entered the room and kindled thee 
As in a forge, Yvanhoe — 

Prospered the ruddy fire, and fanned 
Thy beauty to a rosy brand. 

Till all the odorous purple dark 
Reeled, and thy soul became a spark 

In the great draught of Destiny 
Which men call love, Yvanhoe. 
70 



YVANHOE FERRARA 



The untold ardour of the earth 

That knows no sorrow, fear nor dearth, 

Before the pent-up moment passed, 
Was glad of all its will at last — 

And more, if such a thing could be — 
In thy long kiss, Yvanhoe. 

For years my life was bright and glad, 
Because of the great joy we had ; 

Until I heard the wind repeat 
Thy name behind me in the street, 

Like a lost lyric of the sea, 
" Yvanhoe, Yvanhoe." 

But now the day has no desire; 
The scarlet poppies have no fire; 

7t 



YVANHOE FERRARA 



There is no magic in the sun 
Nor anything he shines upon; 

Only the muttering of the sea, 
Since thou art dead, Yvanhoe. 

Now God on high, he mine the hlame. 
If time destroy or men defame 
Yvanhoe Ferraras name. 



72 



THE LOVE-CHANT OF KING 
HACKO 

In the time of red October, 
In the hills of the pointed fir, 
In the days of the slanted sunlight 
That ripens cone and burr, 
God gave me a splendid woman — 
A mate for a lord of lands — 
And put the madness on me, 
And left her there in my hands. 

In the roving woodland season. 
When the afternoons are still 
And the sound of lowing cattle 
Comes up to the purple hill, 
73 



LOVE-CHANT OF KING HACKO 

God would speak to His creatures, 
Flower and beast and bird, 
And lays the silence upon them 
To hearken to His word. 

In the time of the scarlet maple, 
When the blue Indian haze 
Walks through the wooded valley 
And sleeps by the mountain ways, 
She stood like a beech in the forest. 
Where the wash of sunlight lies, 
With her wonderful beech-red hair 
And her wondering beech-grey eyes. 

In the time of the apple harvest. 
When the fruit is gold on the bough, 
She stood in the moted sunshine, 
The orchards remember how — 
Loving, untrammelled and generous, 
Ardent and supple and tall, 
74 



LOVE-CHANT OF KING HACKO 

Quick to the breath of the spirit 
As a shadow that moves on a wall. 

In a yellow and crimson valley, 
At the time of the turning leaf, 
When warm are the tawny fern-beds, 
And the cricket's life is brief, 
I saw the dark blood mantle 
And prosper under the tan, 
Then I knew the power God lent me 
To use, when He made me man. 

The world, all being and beauty 
From meadow to mountain-line, 
Awaiting the touch of rapture 
For a meaning and a sign; 
A woman's voice said, " Hacko," 
Then I knew and could understand 
How love is a greater province 
Than dominion of sea or land. 
75 



LOVE-CHANT OF KING HACKO 

In the month of golden hillsides, 
When moons are frosty white, 
And the returning Hunter 
Looms on the marge of night, 
Relieving his brother Arcturus, 
Belted, majestic and slow, 
To patrol the Arctic watch-fires 
And sentry the lands of snow, 

A core of fire was kindled 

On a hearthstone wide and deep. 

Where the great arms of the mountains 

Put Folly-of-mind to sleep; 

We came without guide or knowledge. 

Silver, array or store, 

Through the land of purple twilight 

To the lodge of the Open Door. 



76 



THE CREATION OF LILITH. 

This happened in the Garden 
Ages on ages since, 

When noontide made a pleasant shade 
Of ilex, pear and quince. 

The Gardener sat and pondered 
Some beauty rarer still 
Than any he had wrought of earth 
And fashioned to his will. 

"Now who will be her body?" 
" I," said the splendid rose, . 
" Colour, fire and fragrance, 
In imperial repose." 
77 



THE CREATION OF LILITH 

" Who will be her two eyes? " 
** I," said the flag of blue, 
" Sky and sea all shadowy 
Drench me wholly through." 

" Who will be her bright mouth? " 
" I," the carnation said, 
" With my old Eastern ardour 
And my Persian red." 

*' Who will be, among you. 
The glory of her hair? " 
His glance went reaching through the noon; 
The marigold was there. 

" Who will be her laughter, 
Her love-word and her sigh?" 
Among the whispering tree-tops 
A breath of wind said, " I." 



78 



THE CREATION OF LILITH 

" And whence will come her spirit? " 
Answer there was none. 
The Gardener breathed upon her mouth, 
And lo, there had been done 

The miracle of beauty 
Outmarvelling the flowers; 
While the great blue dial 
Recorded the slow hours. 



79 



IN A FAR COUNTRY. 

In a land that Is little traversed, 
Beyond the news of the town, 
There lies a delectable Kingdom 
Where the crimson sun goes down, 

The province of fruitlands and flowers 
And colour and sea-sounds and love. 
If you were queen of that country. 
And I were the king thereof, 

We should tread upon scarlet popples, 
And be glad the long day through. 
Where the bluest skies in the world 
Rest upon hills of blue. 

80 



IN A FAR COUNTRY 



We should wander the slopes of the mountains 
With the wind and the nomad bee, 
And watch the white sails on the sea-rim 
Come up from the curving sea. 

We should watch from the sides of the valleys 

The caravans of the rain, 

In trappings of purple and silver, 

Go by on the far-off plain. 

And they all should be freighted with treasure, 
The vision that gladdens the eye, 
The beauty that betters the spirit 
To sustain it by and by. 

We should hear the larks' fine field-notes 

Breaking in bubbly swells. 

As if from their rocking steeples 

The lilies were ringing their bells; 



8i 



IN A FAR COUNTRY 



We should hear invisible fingers 
Play on the strings of the pines 
The broken measure whose motive 
Only a lover divines; 

The music of Earth, the enchantress, 
The cadence that dwells in the heart 
Against the time of oblivion. 
To bid it remember and start. 

And nothing should make us unhappy, 
And no one should make us afraid, 
For we should be royal lovers 
In the land where this plot is laid. 

And with night on the almond orchards 
We should lie where warm winds creep, 
Under the starry tent-cloth 
Hearing the footfall of Sleep. 



82 



SONG O F THE FOUR 
WORLDS. 

I. 

Is it northward, little friend? 

And she whispered, " What is there?" 

There are people who are loyal to the glory of 

their past. 
Who held by heart's tradition, and will hold it 

to the last; 
Who would not sell in shame 
The honour of their name. 
Though the world were in the balance and a 

sword thereon were cast. 
^3 



SONG OF THE FOUR WORLDS 

Oh, there the ice is breaking, the brooks are 

running free, 
A robin calls at twilight from a tall spruce-tree, 
And the light canoes go down 
Past portage, camp and town, 
By the rivers that make murmur in the lands 

along the sea. 

And she said, " It is not there, 
Though I love you, love you dear; 
I cannot bind my little heart with loves of yes- 
ter year." 

II. 

Is it southward, little friend? 
" Lover, what is there? " 

There are men of many nations who were sick 
of strife and gain. 



84 



SONG OF THE FOUR WORLDS 

And only ask forgetfulness of all the old world's 

pain. 
There Life sets down her measure 
For Time to fill at leisure 
With loveliness and plenty in the islands of the 

main. 

Oh, there the palms are rustling, the oranges are 

bright ; 
In all the little harbour towns the coral streets 

are white ; 
The scarlet flowers fall 
By the creamy convent wall, 
And the Southern Cross gets up from sea to 

steer the purple night. 

And she said, " It is not there, 
Though I love you, love you dear; 
I should weary of the beauty that is changeless 
all the year." 

85 



SONG OF THE FOUR WORLDS 

III. 

Is it eastward, little friend? 

And she whispered, " What is there? " 

There are rivers good for healing, there are 

temples in the hills. 
There men forsake desire and put by their earthly 

wills ; 
And there the old earth breeds 
Her mystic mighty creeds 
For the lifting of all burdens and the loosing 

of all ills. 

Oh, the tents are in the valley where the shadows 

sleep at noon, 
Where the pack-train halts at twilight and the 

spicy bales are strewn. 
Where the long brown road goes by 
To the cut against the sky, 
And is lost within the circle of the silent, rosy 

moon. 

86 



SONG OF THE FOUR WORLDS 

And she said, " It is not there, 
Though I love you, love you dear ; 
For my faith is warm and living, not unearthly, 
old and sere." 

IV. 

Is it w^estvi^ard, little friend? 
" Lover, what is there? " 

There are men and women who are sovereigns 
of their fate, 

Who look Despair between the eyes and know 
that they are great; 

Who will not halt nor quail 

On the eager endless trail, 

Till Destiny makes way for them and Love un- 
bars the gate. 

Oh, there the purple lilies are blowing in the sun, 

And the meadow larks are singing — a thousand, 

if there's one! 

87 



SONG OF THE FOUR WORLDS 

And the long blue hills arise 
To the wondrous dreamy skies, 
For the twisted azure columns of the rain to rest 
upon. 

And she said, " It is not there, 
For I love you, love you dear. 
Oh, shut the door on Sorrow, for the Four 
Great Worlds are here! " 



88 



STREET SONG AT NIGHT. 

There's many a quiet seaport that waits the 

daring sail ; 
There's many a lonely farer by many a doubtful 

trail* 
And what should be their star 
To lead them safe and far, — 
What guide to take them o'er the crest, what 

pilot past the bar, — 
Save Love, the great adventurer who will not 

turn nor quail? 

As a voyager might remember how the face of 

earth was changed, — 
All the dreary grey of winter forgotten and 

estranged, — 

89 



STREET SONG AT NIGHT 

When he rode the tempest through 

And steered Into the blue 

Of a tranquil tropic morning diaphanous and 
new, 

With palms upon the sea-rim where the flying- 
fishes ranged ; 

As a lover in old story on a night of wind and 

rain 
Might have stood beneath a window, till a lamp 

should light the pane 
And a lady lean one arm 
On the glowing square and warm, — 
A girlish golden figure in a frame of dark and 

storm, — 
To look the longest moment ere he turned to 

life again. 

Then set a stubborn shoulder to wind and sleet 
and snow, 

90 



STREET SONG AT NIGHT 

With the weather foul above him and the pave- 
ment foul below; 

So it happened in my case ; 

When I saw her, every trace 

Of doubt and fear and languor to the pulse of 
joy gave place, 

And the world was great and goodly as he 
planned it long ago. 

There's a shipman who goes sailing where the 

sea is round and high; 
There's a lover who goes piping where winds oi 

morning cry; 
And the lilt beneath his heart 
Was timed to stop and start, 
Till no more ships go sailing and the green hills 

fall apart. 
O, friends, that minstrel-lover, that mariner am I. 



91 



THE LEAST OF LOVE. 

Only let one fair frail woman 
Mourn for me when I am dead, — 
World, withhold your best of praises! 
There are better things instead. 

Shall the little fame concern me, 
Or the triumph of the years, 
When I keep the mighty silence, 
Through the falling of her tears? 

I shall heed not, though 'twere April 
And my field-larks all returned. 
When her lips upon these eyelids 
One last poppied kiss have burned. 
92 



THE LEAST OF LOVE 

Painted hills shall not allure me, 
Mirrored in the painted stream; 
Having loved them, I shall leave them, 
Busy with the vaster dream. 

Only let one dear dark woman 
Mourn for me when I am dead, 
I shall be content w^ith beauty 
And the dust above my head. 

Yet when I shall make the journey 
From these earthly dear abodes, 
I have four things to remember 
At the Crossing of the Roads. 

How her hand was like a tea-rose; 
And her low voice like the South; 
Her soft eyes were tarns of sable ; 
A red poppy was her mouth. 



93 



THE LEAST OF LOVE 

Only let one sweet frail woman 
Mourn for me when I am dead, — 
Gently for her gentlest lover, — 
More than all will have been said. 

Be my requiem the rain-wind; 
And my immortality 
But the lifetime of one heartache 
By the unremembering sea! 



94 



A MAN'S LAST WORD. 

Death said to me, 
" Three things I ask of thee; 
And thy reply- 
Shall make thee or undo thee presently." 

I said, " Say on. 

Lord Death, thy will be done. 

One answers now, 

To bribe and fear indifferent as thou." 

He said, " Behold, 
My power is from of old. 
The drunken sea 

Is but a henchman and a serf to me. 

95 



A man's last word 



" Hunger and war 
My tireless sleuth-hounds are. 
Before my nod 
The quailing nations have no help but God. 

* What hast thou found, 
In one life's little round, 
Stronger than these?" 
I said, '' One little hand-touch of Marie's." 

He said, " Again : 

Of all brave sights to men — 

The glittering rain, 

A towering city in an autumn plain, 

An eagle's flight, 

A beacon-fire at night, 

The harvest moon, 

The burnish of a marching host at noon — 



96 



A MAN S LAST WORD 

" What hast thou seen 
In one life's small demesne, 
Fairer than these? " 
I said, " That supple body of Marie's." 

He said, '* Once more: 

Of all men labour for, 

Battle and yearn, 

And spend their blessed days without return 

" Leisure or wealth, 
Or power or sun-tanned health, 
A bruited name, 
Or the sad solace of a little fame — 

" What hast thou known. 
In one life's narrow zone. 
Dearer than these?" 
I said, " One little love-kiss of Marie's." 



97 



A man's last word 



And then Death said, 

To-day among the dead 

Thou shalt go down, 

And with the wise receive thy just renown." 



98 



A MIDWINTER MEMORY. 

Now the snow is on the roof, 
Now the wind is in the flue, 
Beauty, keep no more aloof, 
Make my winter dreaming true, 
Give my fancy proof. 

How the year runs back to June, 

To the day I saw you first ! 

In the sultry afternoon 

There the mountains lay immersed 

In a summer swoon. 

In the orchard with your book, 
I can see you now as then — 
99 



L MIDWINTER MEMORY 

That serene and smiling look, 
Far away and back again, 
While my spirit shook. 

Now the frost is on the pane, 
And the winter on the sea, 
Gold across the iron strain, 
Thought of you comes back to me. 
Like a lost refrain. 

What a voice it was I heard ! 
All your j's were soft as d's, 
Like the nest-notes of a bird. 
And your fingers clasped your knees. 
As you smiled each word. 

Well I knew you for the one 
Sought so long and never found, 
In this country of the sun, 

100 



A MIDWINTER MEMORY 

All these burning summers round. 
There, the search was done! 

Now the dark is at the door; 
Now the snow is on the sill ; 
And for all I may deplore, 
Time must have his ancient will — 
Mar one lover more. 



lOI 



AN ANGEL IN PLASTER. 

Dear smiling little snub-nosed baby face 
With angel wings, 

Be thou the guardian of this house, and grace 
Its sublunary things. 

Look laughing down, O blessed babe, and lend 
That guileless charm. 
That beaming joy, to sweeten and defend 
Our dwelling from all harm. 

Bid sorrow shun the threshold of this door, 
And memory 

Cease in this place forever to deplore 
What has been — and must be. 

I02 



AN ANGEL IN PLASTER 

Come sun or storm, come merriment or tears, 
No care can fret 

Thy radiant spirit, nor the heavy years 
Invade it w^ith regret. 

Surely thou art a traveller from a land 
That knows no grief! 

The life of men thou canst not understand — 
So turbulent, so brief. 

Yet thou must tarry here, thou darling one, 
To smile and bring 

Thoughts of the world's fair youth, a fadeless sun 
And a perpetual spring. 



THE END. 



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